


Replication

by New_day



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Cannibalism, Happy Ending, M/M, Manipulation, Massage, Murder, Murder Family, POV Hannibal Lecter, POV Will Graham, Protective Will Graham, Serial Killers, They Flip, Will Graham Doesn't Need Help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-06-18 07:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 30,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New_day/pseuds/New_day
Summary: After killing Garret Jacob Hobbs, Will Graham left the FBI for good. Until one day, Jack Crawford wants to borrow his imagination again, and Will gets involved in an unusual case and meets an unconventional psychiatrist.





	1. Chapter 1

“I can tell you are doing alright, Will,” FBI Agent Jack Crawford remarks, giving the other man a thorough look. Will is in good shape and seems composed and laid-back, completely different from the anxious, nervous wreck he was when Jack last saw him.

Will Graham nods and smiles. “Yeah, I'm fine.” 

“I'm glad,” Jack answers. “Considering the state you were in when we last met...I was worried about you.”

“You don't have to worry about me, Jack,” Will replies, shaking his head. “Everything's fine, really. It's been more than two years now since I shot Hobbs, and I hardly think about him anymore.”

“That's good to hear. And I hope Abigail is doing alright as well? I think it's great that you chose to become her legal guardian, but I guess it must have been...difficult at times, after everything that happened.”

Will frowns slightly. “It was my duty to take care of her, given I was the one who shot her father. Of course I know it wasn't my fault, I had to stop him from killing her, but still...I felt guilty. Becoming her guardian was the right thing to do. I have to admit that our relationship wasn't easy at first, understandably. But now, we are getting along. She's like a daughter to me, and I daresay that she regards me as her father. Abigail is doing much better, she has managed to overcome her trauma, more or less. She's in college now, luckily we finally found one where her father didn't kill any girls.” Will smiles wryly.

“I'm happy to hear that she's doing better. She's been through enough,” Jack says. “And what else have you been doing, Will, since you left the FBI?”

“Taking care of Abigail has been my priority, of course. And taking care of my pack of strays. I'm up to ten now and counting.” Will laughs. “After my money ran out, I had to find a job to pay our bills. I've always been good with my hands, and so I decided to apply for a job as a janitor at the local elementary school. I've been working there for over a year now. It's okay, I like it. We have to economize a bit, you don't get rich with a job like that, but we get along.””

Jack stares at him in disbelief. “Really? No offense, Will, there's nothing wrong with being a school janitor, but with your education and training...After all, you worked for the FBI, and you were good at it, both as a teacher and as a special agent. Your...special ability, your empathy disorder helped us to catch Hobbs. Without you, he would have killed even more girls. You were saving lives, Will! Don't you miss that now, working for a good cause and having an impact on other people's lives?”

Will shakes his head. “No, I really don't. To be honest, I care more about my own life and about Abigail's now than about the lives of strangers I'm supposed to save. This part of my life is over, I left it all behind, and I really don't regret it. Working for the FBI almost cost me my sanity, and I'm glad that I didn't end up in some mental institution for the rest of my life. I don't want to come back, Jack. That's what you intend to ask me, isn't it?”

“You are right.” Jack agrees. “I'd like to borrow your imagination...again. Believe me, I fully understand that you want to leave the past behind. But this case...you have to help us out. If anybody can solve it, it's you.”

“Well,” Will answers, sighing resignedly, “Being here already, you might as well tell me what this is all about. What kind of case is this?”

“It's about the copycat.” 

“The what?” Will asks with a frown.

Jack gives him an incredulous look. “Don't tell me you haven't heard of this case. It's been all over the news for almost a year now.”

“I'm sorry, Jack, but to be honest, I don't really follow the news. I've found that it's better for my mental state to ignore them, after everything that's happened...”

“Of course,” Jack nods sympathetically. “I understand. This copycat...they're mocking us. They're making fun of the police force, making us seem incompetent. They're killing serial killers that we haven't been able to find yet. We don't know how they find them, but they do and kill them in exactly the same way the serial killer's victims have been killed, copying their crimes. For instance, there was this guy who made a gigantic eye out of corpses. The copycat found this killer, murdered him and made him a part of his own crime scene, integrating him into the eye. Or this string shop owner who murdered people to turn their guts into strings. The copycat killed him and publicly displayed his body, with a cello the strings of which were made from the shop owner's own guts. They're always leaving hints for us, evidence to find, to make sure we realize that their victim is in fact the serial killer we've been looking for. The worst thing is that the press is treating this killer like a hero who is doing the police's job and is protecting society from monsters.”

“But that seems to be what this copycat is doing, doesn't it?” Will interjects. “Finding killers the police didn't find and making sure they'll never kill again.”

Jack looks at him with a frown. “Are you trying to defend the copycat, Will? This killer who is making us look dumb and incapable? What they should do, what anybody should do who has knowledge of a crime is contacting the police and making sure we can do our job, instead of going on a murder spree.”

“Of course, you are right,” Will agrees. “I didn't mean to defend this killer, I know you're not supposed to take the law into your own hands. You say the copycat has been out there for a whole year? If you haven't been able to catch them so far, what makes you think that I'll be able to find this killer?”

Jack looks him in the eye. “You're our best shot, Will. After a year, we still don't have a clue who this killer might be. And I know you're able to empathize with all kinds of people, even with the craziest psychopaths. If anybody can help us convict this copycat, it's you. But if it's too much for you, if you think you can't handle it, I won't force you, of course. I don't want to break you, after everything you've been through.”

Will sighs softly. “I really intended never to do this again, but if it's so important to you, I'm willing to make an exception. But this won't become a habit, Jack. I'm going to help you just this one time, and if anything should happen that could endanger Abigail, I'll leave.”

“Of course, that goes without saying,” Jack answers quickly. “I'm glad you changed your mind.” That was easier than I thought, Jack muses, slightly surprised.


	2. Chapter 2

“I need you to help me with a psychological profile, Dr Lecter,” Jack Crawford explains.

“I see,” Hannibal answers. He places the scalpel on his desk inconspicuously, glad the FBI agent didn't come to his office to arrest him. Having to kill Mr Crawford would have been rather inconvenient. “Of course I'd be glad to help. Whose profile do you wish me to build, Mr Crawford?”

“It's about Will Graham, a former FBI teacher and special agent. I need his help with a case I'm sure you've heard about. The copycat. “

Hannibal nods. “Yes, I've heard about it, the killer who murders serial killers by copying their crimes. Very interesting indeed. And the name Will Graham seems familiar as well. I suppose it's the same Will Graham who two years ago shot Garret Jacob Hobbs, the murderer and cannibal, and was committed to a mental institution subsequently?”

“Yes, that's him,” Jack Crawford confirms, frowning slightly. “But...it wasn't like the press made it seem. He wasn't insane, he was sick. He was suffering from a brain disease, encephalitis, which was only found out after he had been institutionalized. He had hallucinations, apparently, he believed to see...Hobbs' ghost. When Will was treated, these delusions disappeared, but he was still in an unstable mental state, suffering from remorse after killing Hobbs. He couldn't live with himself, with killing someone and orphaning a young girl. Will even became Abigail Hobbs' legal guardian because he felt he had to make amends, though he had saved her life by killing her father. Will decided to leave the FBI for good, saying he didn't want something like this to happen ever again.”

“Quite a drastic, but understandable decision” Hannibal remarks. “Not everybody is suited to a profession that may require taking a life. But may I ask, Mr Crawford, why you wish Will Graham to help with the copycat case, after he chose to leave? Is there anything that makes him exceptional to you and the FBI?”

“Indeed, there is. Mr Graham has a very unique mind. He has an empathy disorder, meaning he can think like anybody, assume anybody's point of view, even a psychopath's and killer's. This is what made him so valuable as a special agent and helped him to catch Hobbs. But...I suppose it was also another reason for him to quit. When Will was in the mental hospital, he told me that he had not only seen Hobbs' ghost, but had sometimes fantasied about being Hobbs and killing Abigail and the other girls. I think that the encephalitis was only partly responsible for these fantasies, another cause was the overactive imagination that comes with Will's empathy disorder. To catch Hobbs, Will had to walk a mile in his shoes, so to speak, to feel like him and understand him. No wonder this affected his mental state.”

Hannibal has listened to Jack's words intently and with increasing fascination. “An empathy disorder? I've never heard of anything the like. Assuming a killer's point of view must undoubtedly be unsettling and touch everything else in his mind, causing his values and decency to be shocked at his associations.”

Jack Crawford nods. “I can hardly imagine what it was like for Will, but it must have been a disturbing experience. The encephalitis made everything worse, and the lines between imagination and reality became blurred. But even after Will was cured, his memories of the Hobbs case still gave him nightmares. He was anxious, irritated, he couldn't sleep. Though I regretted to lose him, it was probably for the best to leave the FBI at this point. After everything he's been through, I'm not entirely sure if Will Graham is capable of working as a special agent again, though he seems to be doing better. That's why I need you to make a psychological profile, Dr Lecter, to determine whether Mr Graham is stable enough to work in the field again.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Hannibal answers contentedly. “Mr Graham's emphatic abilities seem intriguing indeed, and I'd be honored to create a psychological profile of such an extraordinary mind. I'm really looking forward to meeting Mr Graham.”

Jack chuckles. “Wait till you meet him, Dr Lecter. Will Graham...he's not the most sociable kind of person, to say the least, and can sometimes seem a bit arrogant. I'm afraid you might find him rather rude.”

***

There are quite a number of things that delight Dr Hannibal Lecter: Art, literature, architecture, music, food and many more. But what he enjoys mostly in all these things, what he deems worthy of his attention and his dedication above everything else is beauty. His own definition of beauty, which sometimes corresponds with and sometimes differs from the general interpretation of this term. So it is not surprising that when Will Graham enters Jack Crawford's office, the first thing Hannibal notices about him is his beauty: his bright, blue-green eyes, sparkling with intelligence and contrasting charmingly with his dark curls, his regular, handsome features, his attractive physical appearance. The psychiatrist smiles appreciatively at the other man who takes a seat next to him in front of Crawford's desk. Hannibal extends his hand.

“Hello, Mr Graham, I'm Dr Lecter. Pleased to meet you.”

Will Graham gives him a questioning look, shakes his hand and smiles back at him reluctantly. “Hello, Dr Lecter. Are you also working on the copycat case?”

Hannibal hesitates, glancing at Jack Crawford, who is shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

Will looks from one to the other until the answer suddenly seems to dawn on him and he frowns. “What kind of doctor are you? Do you happen to be a psychologist?”

“I'm a psychiatrist,” Hannibal answers, and Will narrows his eyes.

“You are here because of me, aren't you? To watch over me, because Jack is afraid I'll freak out again. Am I right, Jack?”

“I decided to consult Dr Lecter because I thought it would be a good idea to have a renowned psychiatrist like him help us with this complex case,” Jack answers, sighing. “ And...well, because I believe it might be beneficial to you to have someone to talk to. Someone qualified who understands the challenges of our work. I think you can hardly blame me for being careful after everything that happened, Will. I only have your best interest in mind.”

Will smiles, a smile that seems fake to Hannibal. “Yes, of course you do. I appreciate it, Jack, but it's really not necessary. I didn't want to come back, but I'm entirely capable of working this case without any psychiatric help. I told you I was feeling much better.” He looks Dr Lecter in the eye, holding his gaze. “I bet Jack wants you to create a psychological profile to determine if I'm fit for duty. I can assure you that I am, and I'd like to ask you politely not to psychoanalyze me, Doctor. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed. “

Despite the smile and the humorous tone, Hannibal recognizes the only slightly veiled threat behind Will Graham's remark. This is going to be interesting indeed. Hannibal finds himself being more and more intrigued by this man who is nothing like the anxious, unstable and rude individual he expected. He smiles back at the former special agent.

“I will keep that in mind, Mr Graham. As much as you should keep in mind that observing is what we do. I can't shut mine of anymore than you can shut yours of.”

Will just gives him a scrutinizing look, narrowing his eyes again, and doesn't answer.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you see, Will?”

They are still in Crawford's office, and Will is looking at pictures of the copycat's crime scenes.

A totem pole made of dead bodies, with the killer at the top, sitting on the back of the corpse below him, who turned out to be his biological son. 

Another killer's corpse with a gaping wound in his abdomen, playing a cello the strings of which are made from the killer's guts, just like the killer used to make strings from his victim's guts.

A naked man kneeling on a bed in a hotel room, displayed in the same way he displayed his own victims, with the skin flayed off his back and positioned like angel's wings.

A gigantic eye, consisting of dozens of bodies with different skin tones, the killer and creator of this macabre mural placed in the eye's center.

Hannibal watches Will looking at each picture intently, then closing his eyes for a moment.

Hannibal also takes a glance at the pictures, though he already knows everything about the copycat murders, having been curious since a year about this killer, despite the fact that it displeases him that there are more newspaper and online articles on the copycat than on Hannibal's own crimes. Being surpassed by a killer who obviously enjoys doing bad things but deems it necessary to compensate for their own evilness by exclusively murdering those who are considered evil offends Hannibal. The concept of being a serial killer but still clinging to morality seems inconsequential and contradictory to him. Hannibal decides that it is time to kill again soon, to remind the public of the singularity of Hannibal's own murders. Though he is not above copying other killer's crimes, the majority of Hannibal's kills are unique, elegant arrangements he takes great pride in. Hannibal has never bothered with social morality or ethics and chooses his victims based on his own distinct criteria.

Will takes a long time to answer Jack's question. Finally he says: “I see...justice. Or what this killer considers to be justice. But also...appreciation, to some extent.”

“Appreciation?” Jack Crawford repeats, frowning.

Will nods. “Yes, some kind of appreciation for the killers'...efforts. For their design and its beauty.”

“I fail to see how one can find beauty in a crime scene,” Jack Crawford snorts, giving Will a confused look.

“As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Hannibal remarks. “And a serial killer is likely to behold a crime scene in an - unconventional way. Besides, I daresay that if these photographs' motives” - he points at the pictures in Will's hand- “were not real murder scenes, but works of art instead, like surrealistic paintings for instance, there would be quite a few people who would deem them beautiful. It's only knowing how these motives came into being that makes us see horror instead of beauty. It's only our moral obligation that renders us biased.”

Will gives Hannibal a scrutinizing look before saying, addressing Jack and ignoring Hannibal's remark, “I'm aware that there's nothing beautiful about a murder scene, I was just assuming the killer's point of view of course. He sees himself as someone who is serving justice by murdering serial killers, but there is also clearly some fascination with the act of killing itself and with the display of bodies in an – artful way. Why else would he recreate the killer's crime scenes?”

“You said 'he',” Jack observes. “Are you sure that the killer is a man? I know that female serial killers are rare, but they are not unheard of either. And since having been with the FBI, I've come across quite a few insane and psychopathic women. There was one particularly horrible case with a wannabe mother who kidnapped boys and made them murder their own families. Or the crazy bee lady who....” Jack shudders. “Forget it, you don't want to know. But you don't think that this killer could be a woman, Will?”

Will shrugs. “Of course there's the possibility that the killer is a woman. She'd have to be physically strong, but it's not impossible, though I'd say it's more likely that a man is responsible for these crimes.”

“It might also be a couple,” Hannibal suggests. “A 'folie à deux', two people afflicted by the same madness. Or it could even be a family, like the wannabe mother and the boys you were talking about, Jack.”

Will shakes his head. “I don't think so. I'm positive the copycat is killing alone. As I said, he's probably male, living alone, isolated. Someone who is unable to connect with other human beings and uses these crimes as a bizarre way of connecting with the serial killers he murders.”

“Interesting assumption,” Hannibal remarks, and Will frowns at him.

Hannibal finds himself being slightly disappointed at Will's analysis, given the fact that Will is supposed to be an empath with a unique insight in the human mind. Hannibal is convinced that Will's interpretation of the killer as someone who wants to serve justice and at the same time appreciates the beauty of his – given Will is right and the killer is a man- victim's crime scenes is accurate. On the other hand, Will's description of the copycat as social recluse seems like lazy psychiatry to Hannibal, an assumption without validation, just based on common beliefs about serial killers.

***

When Will and Hannibal finally leave Jack Crawford's office and Will is about to go home, Hannibal stops him by saying: “One moment, please, Mr Graham.”

Will gives Hannibal a wary look. “Yes?”

“I'd like to ask you to come to my office. Tomorrow, at half past seven, if that suits you. You know that Jack Crawford expects me to create your psychological profile, and it would be useful to have a conversation with you before.”

Noticing a twinge of annoyance in Will's face, Hannibal adds quickly: “I don't want to imply that you are in need of psychotherapy, Mr Graham. This is merely a formality. Please think of it not as therapy, but as conversation.”

Will sighs. “Alright,” he says, smiling the fake smile again, “I'll be there. See you tomorrow, Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal smiles back at him. “I am really looking forward to it, Mr Graham.”

And he does indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting. :)

“I still can't believe he's dead. It's been a year, and I'm still not over it. Do you think that's normal, Dr Lecter, or am I suffering from depression?" Franklyn asks, sobbing. He blows his nose loudly and puts the crumpled Kleenex on the table next to his chair.

Hannibal's frown while looking at the Kleenex is hardly visible. He imagines walking over to Franklyn, bending down and snapping his neck. It's a shame that Franklyn is so chubby, given lean pigs are the most tasteful ones in Hannibal's opinion.

But instead of killing his patient, Hannibal hides his annoyance, saying: “There is no such thing as normalcy when it comes to grief, Franklyn, as everybody experiences it differently. You will grieve as long as it will take you to come to terms with your friend's death. Grief is a natural reaction to loss and will help you find closure eventually.”

“But how can I even grieve him,” Franklyn replies, still sobbing. “He was...a murderer! A serial killer! I should be glad that he is dead. But I'm not, and the worst part is...I'm wondering if it's my fault.”

“What do you mean by that, Franklyn?”

“I keep asking myself...what if the corpse he put on display, the trombonist...what if he did that for me? As some kind of crazy...serenade? Maybe Tobias was in love with me? He never said anything the like, and he knew I'm not gay, but still...He displayed the body after we had been at the opera together, and he had never killed like this before. He also confided in me and confessed that he murdered the trombonist...if only I had reported it, but I just didn't want to believe him... Is this even possible, Dr Lecter? I googled 'psychopaths' and read that they don't have empathy and aren't able to build close relationships. So as Tobias obviously was a psychopath, is it even possible that he was in love with me?”

Hannibal sighs, tired of Franklyn's rambling. It's about time to give him a referral because otherwise, Hannibal is really going to kill him one day. And experience taught him that explaining a patient's death to the police can be quite a nuisance. As much as Hannibal enjoys being the center of attention, this is not the kind of attention he wants.

Surprisingly, Franklyn got one thing right, though. Hannibal is sure that the dead trombonist was meant to be a serenade, even if Franklyn is wrong about the recipient. Hannibal knows that he, Hannibal, was the one Tobias tried to attract, not Franklyn. When Hannibal met Tobias at the opera and Franklyn introduced them, Hannibal suspected immediately that he was finally facing an equal. A predator, a ruthless killer who was giving Hannibal a knowing smile, obviously sensing as well as Hannibal did that he had just met a kindred spirit. Shortly after, Franklyn told Hannibal that Tobias implied having killed the trombonist, confirming Hannibal's first impression of Tobias. The younger man was obviously serenading Hannibal, courting him in a way he knew Hannibal would understand. But Hannibal didn't want to be Tobias' friend, let alone more than a friend. First, he wasn't attracted to Tobias, he didn't even like him, and besides – where was the appeal in having a friend or lover who was exactly like him? Tobias' unwanted gift made Hannibal realize that he indeed wished for someone who could be his friend, maybe even his partner in life. But what Hannibal wanted was both being understood and at the same time being defied by somebody who presented a challenge, somebody with a mind of their own which Hannibal could still form to his liking. Tobias clearly wasn't this person, and Hannibal thought about killing him, but decided to wait because he was curious what Tobias would do. And then the copycat interfered, ending everything before it became really interesting.

Hannibal notices that Franklyn is looking at him expectantly. Remembering Franklyn's question, he says: “My experience, both in my professional and my personal life, has shown me that every human being is unique and cannot be defined easily by a checklist of symptoms. I hardly knew your friend, Franklyn, merely your own perception of him. He may or may not have been in love with you.”

Hannibal's answer makes Franklyn cry even more. “If I had only known,” he whines, as if Hannibal confirmed his delusions instead of just stating that they might be accurate. “We could have gone to the police, maybe he would have been released and rehabilitated some day and could still have lived a productive life...”

This is getting really exhausting. Hannibal sighs softly, and the only reason why he isn't giving Franklyn a referral today is that he knows Franklyn won't accept this easily, but will be upset. And Hannibal can't put up with that, not today. He has to end this annoying session in time to be ready for his next patient, Will Graham. Thinking of him makes Hannibal smile and helps him endure Franklyn's nonsense for the rest of the session.

***

“Hello, Dr Lecter,” Will Graham says, slowly turning around to face Hannibal. He is wearing a salmon shirt that goes lovely with his dark, combed back hair and his bright eyes. Will smiles at him and Hannibal smiles back, opening the door for him to enter his office.

“Hello, Mr Graham. Please, sit down.” Hannibal replies, pointing at the comfortable armchair reserved for his patients, and the men sit down opposite each other.

“First, I'd like to make clear that I don't care much about formalities,” Will remarks. “If we are really going to have just a conversation, not therapy, then I'd prefer you to call me Will.”

Hannibal smiles again. “Of course. And as we are on equal terms and I am not your doctor, I would like you to call me Hannibal.”

Will nods. “Okay. So...Hannibal, would you like to tell me what exactly you want to talk about? What do I have to say to convince Jack Crawford that I'm more or less functional and sane?”

“Don't worry about your psychological evaluation, Will,” Hannibal answers, ignoring the other man's sarcastic tone. “I'm positive that you are totally functional and sane. As I already told you, I don't think that you are in need of therapy. I merely believed it would be appropriate to meet and know you better before creating your profile.”

Will shrugs. “If you think that's necessary...And what do you want to know about me?”

“I have to admit that I'm rather curious about you, Will. Frankly, I was surprised when I met you because after talking to Jack Crawford, I was expecting a completely different person. Troubled, fragile and antisocial. I'm afraid that's how Jack Crawford described you.” 

“I can't exactly blame him,” Will replies, chuckling. “I was this person Jack described before I left the FBI. I'm sure you've heard about everything that happened, and about my empathy disorder...It wasn't easy at times. But luckily, I'm not this person anymore. So much has changed in my life. I have changed.”

“I suppose your foster daughter has something to do with this? Hobbs' daughter? I understand you became her legal guardian.”

For an instant, there is an expression on Will's face Hannibal can't place exactly. Annoyance? Irritation? Discomfort? Then Will quickly regains his composure and answers: “Abigail has everything to do with it. The responsibility I felt for her, the obligation...she made me a new and better person. God knows where I would be without her. I'd do anything for her. She deserves to be happy, after everything she's been through.” Will clears his throat and stands up quickly. He starts pacing the room restlessly, obviously feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Hannibal glances at Will, observing his handsome appearance appreciatively, and asks him: “I assume you still feel guilty for killing her father, Will?”

Will stops, looking at Hannibal. “Of course I do. How couldn't I? I know I had no option, but I still regret that I orphaned her. Hobbs was a murderer and a cannibal, but he was her father. And I know that in his sick, twisted way, he loved her. And she loved him, despite everything, and resented me for killing him. But we left that behind a while ago and are both doing much better now.”

“I can see that you are doing well, Will, and I'm glad to hear that your foster daughter also is alright. After talking to you, I'm even more convinced that you are sane and completely capable of taking part in a murder investigation and will inform Jack accordingly.”

Will gives Hannibal an amused look. “Did you just rubber-stamp me?”

Hannibal smiles and shakes his head. “Of course not, Will. I'm merely stating my professional opinion. And as I have completed my evaluation and you are definitely not my patient, I hope there is the possibility for us to associate more privately.”

“What do you mean by that, Hannibal?” Will asks curiously.

“Well, I think you are a very interesting person, Will, and I'd like to know you better. Maybe we will even become friendly, who knows?”

“Yeah, who knows,” Will repeats in a humorous tone, raising his eyebrows. “As everything we have been talking about so far are serial killers and my own mental state, I have the feeling that I know less about you than you know about me. But I'd very much like to change that. I'm sure that I will also find you very interesting when I've come to know you better. So – what do you have in mind exactly, to – get to know each other, Hannibal?”

“This may surprise you, but I have a passion for cooking. I'm very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself. I do not mean to boast, but I daresay that I am quite good at it. I would like to have you for dinner some day. Of course you can also bring Abigail, I'd be happy to meet her.”

“Dinner? With Abigail and me?” Will asks, sounding almost disappointed. “Yes, why not. Who could refuse a good home cooked meal? Abigail and I definitely couldn't. She is going to visit me next week, it's spring break at her college. I'm sure she would like to join us. I'm looking forward to dining with you, Hannibal.”

“As do I,” Hannibal answers, and they are smiling at each other.

***

During the next days, Hannibal finds himself frequently thinking of Will and their conversation. As much as he enjoyed Will's visit at his office, his predator brain soon registered that something was off. Will was hiding something. He claimed to be honest, and he was, to some degree, but the small amount of honesty only served to hide the secrets behind it. Hannibal is familiar with this technique because he employs it constantly. He can't stop wondering what Will is hiding. 

What is even more unsettling is the strange appeal Will holds for him. Hannibal is aware that this appeal is partly based on physical attraction, but Hannibal has met many attractive people, and he has never been that intrigued with anybody else before. And of course Hannibal is fascinated with Will due to his empathy disorder and the tempting, though dangerous, prospect of being seen and understood it presents. But still, Hannibal knows there is more to it than that, there is something which draws him to Will he isn't able to name yet. Even if this confuses him, Hannibal feels more exited than he has been in a long time, exhilarated by the fact that he has finally found someone who is not transparent to him like all the other sheep, someone he can't predict.

***

A week after their conversation, Hannibal is again thinking about Will while sitting in his office after his last patient left, wondering what – and whom - to cook when Will and Abigail are going to pay him a visit. Hannibal has just decided to call Will to ask him when they would like to come for dinner, when the telephone rings. 

It's Jack Crawford. “I'm calling to ask you to come to a crime scene, Dr Lecter. To give us your professional opinion and to support Will, of course. He is already on his way.”

“What is this about, Mr Crawford?” Hannibal asks, already guessing the answer.

“There's been another murder. It's the copycat.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal meets Will, Jack Crawford and two crime scene investigators Jack introduces as Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller at the exhibition hall of a Baltimore art gallery where he is faced with a very strange exhibition: Nine large, rectangular tables are positioned in the hall's center, a corpse lying on each of them. The bodies are in different stages of decay, and a sculptured head is placed next to each body's skull.

Hannibal regards the sculptures intently. They were obviously made from marble and show faces of different ages and ethnicities. What all these faces have in common is that their eyes are closed and that they have the same peaceful, detached expression.

“These sculptures were modeled after death masks,” Hannibal observes.

Jack gives him a surprised look and nods. “Yes, you are right, Dr Lecter. Obviously, an artist killed all these people to create head sculptures based on their death masks. The copycat displayed the corpses to reveal the artist's murders. It's hard to tell because of the corpses' decayed condition, but it seems that each sculptured head was placed next to the person it was modeled after. The artist's name was Laurence Smith. He was killed by the copycat.”

He points at another table, several feet away from the others. The corpse lying on top of it is the only one that is not in a decomposed state but has obviously been killed recently. In contrast to the other bodies, this corpse's head is covered with plaster, and there is no sculpture lying next to it.

“Smith was killed by an overdose of morphine, and we believe that's how he murdered his own victims, though we still have to test the bodies to verify this assumption,” Jack explains. “But it seems likely, because we know that the copycat always imitates their victims' killing methods. Besides, it would explain the sculptures' peaceful facial expressions. Presumably, Smith covered the dead's faces with plaster to create the death masks after killing them, just as it was done to Smith himself by the copycat. Smith used the masks as models for his sculptures, which were exhibited in this gallery a month ago. Apparently, the exhibition was a great success, of course nobody knew how the sculptures were created. We have been able to identify three of the victims so far, homeless people without a family, drug addicts that nobody missed.”

“This is very interesting indeed,” Hannibal remarks. “Before photography was invented, death masks have been used as models for portraits and sculptures for centuries and have held a great fascination for the public. About a hundred years ago, the death mask of a drowned french girl inspired artists and writers all over Europe, for instance. It is a shame that these beautiful pieces of craftsmanship have faded into obscurity today.”

“There's nothing beautiful about this, Hannibal,” Will says, frowning. “This is tasteless and insane. These people were murdered just to create death masks of their faces.”

“Which is highly regrettable, of course,” Hannibal replies. “But at times, one has to separate the artist from the work of art to be able to still see its beauty.”

“Well, if the copycat saw beauty in the art, this clearly didn't stop him from killing the artist,” Jimmy Price remarks, casting a glance at Smith's body.

“How come you are all so sure that this is the copycat's work?” Hannibal asks.

“Because of the way he killed Smith, by displaying him and at the same time exposing and copying his crimes. That's the copycat's design,” Will explains.

“So you still think the copycat is one man, operating alone? I cannot help but wonder how a hermit, an isolated social recluse, as you described the copycat, could have been able to approach and to succeed in killing a number of victims,” Hannibal points out.

Will just shrugs. “I assume that the copycat is probably physically strong, which renders him able to overpower his victims. Anyway, I'm positive the copycat is male and a lone perpetrator. He is lost in his own world with nobody to confide in. The murders are what gives his life meaning and purpose.”

Again, Hannibal finds himself being disappointed by Will's both vague and stereotypical suggestions and senses that he is hiding something. Could Will possibly know more about the copycat than he tells them, Hannibal wonders. And if so, what might that be?

***

After thoroughly surveying the crime scene, Hannibal and Will finally leave the art gallery. Jack is staying with Zeller and Price, who are still collecting further forensic evidence.

“That was fascinating indeed,” Hannibal says. “A glimpse behind the curtain, a rare opportunity to observe law enforcement at work.”

Will gives him a glance. “Frankly, I'm surprised you take these murders so lightly. All the decaying corpses...This didn't even seem to bother you.”

“Of course it bothered me, Will. But unfortunately, death is not unfamiliar to me. Before I became a psychiatrist, I used to be a surgeon. However, I consider myself blessed for not having to burden myself with death on a daily basis anymore. I transferred my passion for anatomy to the culinary arts.”

Will chuckles. “Yes, I get that. Seems to be a much more rewarding way to pursue your passion. And much tastier.”

Hannibal smiles. “Indeed, it is. Speaking of the culinary arts- I hope this is not inappropriate given the circumstances, but before Jack called me, I was about to ask you if you and your foster daughter would like to pay me a visit soon? I'd really enjoy having you both for dinner.”

For an instance, there is a short expression of wariness in Will's eyes, then he smiles back at Hannibal. “I'd like to, and Abigail already told me she'd be happy to join us. We both love good food- who doesn't? -and are looking forward very much to enjoying your culinary skills.”

“I'm looking forward to experiencing the pleasure of your company, “ Hannibal answers delightedly. “How about the day after tomorrow at eight?”

“Okay,” Will replies, smiling again. “We'll be there.”

***

“Hello, Dr Lecter, nice to meet you. Thank you for the invitation.”

Hannibal smiles at the young girl. She is pale, with bright blue eyes and brown hair, plain, but pretty. She smiles at him, a shy, docile smile. A nice, quiet girl at first sight, but something makes Hannibal suspect immediately that there is more to her than that. But he cannot help but wonder whether this impression is merely due to the fact that he knows who she is, knows about her father and his crimes. Two years ago, the case of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, the infamous cannibal and serial killer, was all over the news, both shocking and fascinating the public like few other crimes did before, though there was probably nobody who was as interested in this case as Hannibal. After all, you don't meet a fellow humanitarian every day. And Hannibal wondered, like everyone else, what Hobbs' family, namely his daughter, had known. Did she know what she was eating? Could she even have been her father's accomplice? Nothing could be proven, and Abigail was cleared of all charges, though there are probably many people who still believe her to be an accessory to murder. Hannibal isn't sure yet what to believe, but he intends to find out.

“Thank you for coming, Abigail. You may of course call me Hannibal.”

Hannibal leads the girl and Will, who puts his arm around Abigail's shoulder protectively, into the dining room. Both look around in silence, obviously stunned by the luxury and eccentricity of the room's furnishing and decoration.

Will and Abigail take a seat at the dinner table, waiting for Hannibal to serve the meal.

The first course Hannibal serves is Crème Dubarry. “A french dish invented by the cooks of Louis XV to welcome the king's new mistress,” Hannibal explains. 

Will takes a spoonful. “This is delicious,” he says. “But isn't it cauliflower soup?”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees, frowning slightly. “It was invented when cauliflowers were a rarity and is still considered haute cuisine.” 

For a few minutes, they eat in silence, then Hannibal inquires: “I understand you are in college, Abigail. Have you already decided what you would like to do for a living after college?”

Abigail blushes slightly. “No, “ she answers, shaking her head. “I'm not entirely sure. I'm taking different classes. I'm interested in investigative journalism, for instance, and I'm also really into art.”

Hannibal smiles and nods. “Quite understandable. These are subjects I consider to be very interesting myself. Particularly art and the impact it can have has always fascinated me to a great extent. Is your interest merely theoretical, Abigail, or are you an artist yourself?”

The girl chuckles shyly. “No, I don't consider myself an artist, but there are many artists I find great inspiration in.”

Hannibal just wants to ask her about these artists' names when Will barges in quickly, saying: “Abigail is lying, she's a great artist. You should see the portraits she's painting.” He gives her a proud smile. 

By the way Will looks at her, Hannibal can tell that he is as fond of her as if she were his own daughter. Hannibal finds this oddly endearing. He senses that something binds them, a closeness, a bond. Hannibal even wonders for a moment if they are more to each other than foster father and daughter, but the intimacy Abigail and Will seem to share doesn't feel sexual or romantic to him. It is probably due to everything they have been through together since Hobbs died, Hannibal thinks, feeling a sudden twinge of jealousy and a strange, unwelcome sense of loneliness.

“I'd very much like to see your paintings some day,” Hannibal says. “Perhaps you would consider painting a portrait of me, Abigail?”

“If you like...But I'm really not that good, Will is exaggerating,” Abigail answers, smiling self-consciously.

***

As the main course, Hannibal serves Stuffed Roast Heart with Devilled Kidneys and Garlic Liver Pâté.

“I must say, I'm impressed, Hannibal,” Will says after taking a bite. “I was expecting you to be a good cook, but this dish could really be served at a fancy five star restaurant. If you ever get tired of working as a psychiatrist, you could easily...”

Suddenly, Will is interrupted by a strange retching noise. Abigail is staring at her plate wide-eyed, making gagging and choking noises and finally spitting her food on the plate with a disgusted expression and a shudder.

She looks up and glances at Hannibal, seemingly terrified. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't feel so good. I have to...” Without another word, she stands up abruptly and runs out of the room.

“Abigail? What's wrong with you? Excuse me, Hannibal, I need to check if she's alright,” Will says apologetically before quickly following his foster daughter.

Hannibal remains at the table alone, smiling to himself, oddly pleased that his suspicions about Hobbs' daughter proved to be true. How interesting, he muses. Of course Hannibal has been wondering if Abigail would realize what he served them, but he didn't consider it to be very likely. Who would have guessed that Abigail has such a fine palate?

Will and Abigail return a few minutes later. The girl looks as if she has been crying, and Will seems worried and confused. Both avert Hannibal's eyes.

Finally, Will clears his throat. “I'm really sorry, but we have to leave. Unfortunately, Abigail doesn't feel well.”

Hannibal nods sympathetically. “Of course. I understand. I hope that you will be better soon, Abigail, and that my food was not what caused your indisposition.”

“Of course not, thank you for the food. It was...very tasty,” Will says hastily, and Abigail mumbles a short “Thank you” as well.

Hannibal sees them to the door, bidding them goodbye and wishing Abigail a hasty recovery again. Both smile while taking their leave, still averting Hannibal's eyes, but glancing at each other nervously.

Hannibal remains standing at the door, watching them walking to their car, getting in and driving away. He raises a hand to wave them good bye and smiles brightly.

He knows he should be worried, and of course part of him is, but a larger part can't help but being full of excitement and extensively curious what will happen.

They know.

Finally, he has been seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The french girl's death mask Hannibal mentions is this one: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L'Inconnue_de_la_Seine
> 
> Hannibal's main course was taken from here: http://www.fancyassfood.com/2014/07/the-hannibal-special-stuffed-roast.html


	6. Chapter 6

During the next few days, Hannibal keeps wondering what will happen, now that Will and Abigail found out.

Will there be police officers, ringing the doorbell to arrest him?

Or Jack Crawford, coming to his place to confront him?

Perhaps Will himself, paying Hannibal a visit again, either alone or with Abigail, accusing him of being a cannibal and a murderer?

But nothing happens, which is less surprising to Hannibal than it should be. Hannibal is almost sure that Will and probably Abigail as well are hiding something, that they have a secret. Maybe it's the kind of secret the police are not supposed to know? This might explain why they haven't reported Hannibal so far, perhaps they want to avoid attention.

Before Will's and Abigail's hasty departure, Hannibal had thought about killing them, but he refrained from doing it for different reasons. The first and obvious one was of course that he couldn't risk getting caught. Everybody knows that Will is – technically- his patient and colleague, which would make Hannibal a suspect if Will and Abigail disappeared or turned up dead.

But there is another reason why Hannibal didn't kill them, though he hardly dares to admit it to himself: The strange fondness, the affection he is feeling for this man and, which surprises him the most, also for Will's foster daughter, the seemingly shy and anxious Hobbs girl. He didn't kill them because for some obscure reason, the world seems a more interesting...and more beautiful place with them in it.

Three days after the unfortunate dinner, something finally happens. Will gives Hannibal a call.

When hearing Will's voice, Hannibal can hardly contain his excitement, but he puts all his effort into sounding calm and indifferent.

“Hello, Will. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

Will chuckles softly. “The pleasure is all mine, Hannibal. I'm glad you are still talking to me, after our...sudden departure. I have to apologize for our rudeness, but we couldn't stay. Abigail was really sick, but luckily, she's feeling better now.”

“I'm happy to hear that. And there is no need to apologize, Will. I'm relieved that Abigail is doing better, I was a little worried that my food might have caused her to fall ill. Unfortunately, I forget sometimes that not everybody enjoys meat as much as I do. Perhaps a vegetarian dish would have been more to Abigail's liking.”

“Oh no”, Will replies hastily. “This had really nothing to do with your food, it was delicious. I guess it was probably just a stomach flu. Anyway, it's a pity that we had to leave so soon. I really would have liked to have a chat with you and to get to know you better, Hannibal.”

What are you up to, Will, Hannibal is wondering suspiciously. Aloud, he says: “Perhaps we will soon have the opportunity to rectify this omission. I would be happy to have both of you for dinner again.”

“If it's okay with you, I'd like to return the favor,” Will answers. “I've got a new dog, and he has a hard time adjusting to the pack. I'd rather not leave him alone, so I'd like to ask you to come to my place for dinner. I won't be able to compete with your culinary skills, but I think my food is not that bad. At least that's what Abigail says.” He chuckles.

Hannibal is silent for a moment, wondering again what Will might possibly plan. Then he says, quickly regaining his composure: “I'm sure you are an excellent cook, Will, and I'd very much like to join you and Abigail for dinner.”

“Unfortunately, Abigail won't be with us, she's currently visiting a friend. How about tomorrow evening at half past seven? Would that suit you?”

“Of course, I'd be delighted, “ Hannibal answers. After saying good bye and ending the call, Hannibal keeps asking himself why Will is doing this. Is he planning to confront, maybe even to attack him? Hannibal really hopes this isn't the case, for Will's own sake. He suspects that Will is probably stronger and more capable in a fight than he seems to be at first sight, but still, Hannibal is very much in doubt that Will is going to be able to defeat the Chesapeake Ripper. If necessary, Hannibal won't hesitate to kill Will, as much as he might regret it.

***

The first thing Hannibal notices at Will's place is the smell of dogs. A strong, pungent odor that sadly covers Will's own pleasant scent, making it almost undetectable. Fortunately, there is only one dog present, a mutt of undefinable origin, sitting in a cage in the living room next to the open plan kitchen.

Catching sight of Hannibal, the dog growls softly.

Will looks at it and makes a sharp, hissing noise, and the mutt quiets down immediately. 

“I'm still trying to accustom Derek to company, both human and canine,” Will explains apologetically. “He hasn't been exposed to many living creatures so far, his owner kept him in a cage for his whole life. When the owner moved away, he left Derek behind, and he was brought to the dog shelter. That's where I found him.”

“That's quite a sad story,” Hannibal says politely, though frankly, he couldn't care less about this mutt. He wonders why Will chose to burden himself with such an unaesthetic and irritating creature. Hannibal doesn't dislike dogs per se, he even used to have one when he was young, at his aunt's and uncle's place, but he prefers well-bred and well-behaved dogs to insolent mutts. “The dog can consider itself lucky to have been found by you.”

“I'm the one who considers himself lucky,” Will answers, smiling. “Every time I get a new dog, it's like welcoming a new member to the family. They all have their own distinct personalities, just like humans do, and it's always an exciting and rewarding experience to see them adjusting gradually and becoming a part of the pack.”

“I'm sure it is.” Hannibal nods and smiles, trying to appear understanding. 

***

“This was really exquisite, Will,” Hannibal says appreciatively after finishing the red beans and rice dish Will prepared.

Will smiles. “Thank you. I wasn't sure you'd like it. It's hardly haute cuisine, but one of my favorite dishes. My father used to make it when I was a kid.”

“I enjoy all kinds of food, Will, and have always been fond of good local cuisine.”

Hannibal is wondering what all this is about. It has been a pleasant evening, Will was a kind and polite host, and the food was really delicious. They talked about harmless topics, like music and art. Will seems to have no intentions to confront Hannibal, he doesn't even appear uncomfortable, though Hannibal is sure that Will knows about his culinary preferences. This is really disappointing, Hannibal is thinking. So far, the evening has by no means lived up to his expectations.

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Will. I really enjoyed dining with you, and the food was superb. But unfortunately, I have a patient tomorrow morning, and I think it is time for me to leave.” Hannibal looks at Will expectantly, waiting for him to make a move, to finally reveal his intentions.

And Will does make a move, taking Hannibal by surprise and rendering him speechless.

Will reaches out, takes Hannibal's hand and slowly strokes his palm, sending shivers down Hannibal's spine.

“I'm sure you don't want to miss the dessert,” Will says.


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal is staring at his hand, then he lifts his gaze and looks at Will.

“What's for dessert?”

Will smiles. “Bread pudding – unless you prefer something else.”

“And what might that be?”

Will looks Hannibal in the eye, while still stroking his hand. “You tell me. I'm sure there are quite a few things on your mind. I see the way you look at me, Hannibal, and I know what that means. Don't forget I have an empathy disorder.”

Hannibal isn't sure if he should feel offended, amused or just plain confused. It seems that Will is trying to seduce him, but why? Though there have been times before when Hannibal noticed that Will was flirting with him, it has always seemed superficial. Will has been much too wary, too much on his guard, to show any genuine interest in Hannibal. And now that he knows what Hannibal is he is suddenly trying to seduce him? That doesn't seem to make any sense at all.

Hannibal wonders if Will might be one of these people who are romantically and sexually attracted to killers, who write love letters with marriage proposals to murderers on death row. The mere thought makes Hannibal shudder because he has always found these people utterly distasteful and vulgar. He just can't imagine Will being one of them, he doesn't seem the type.

Or is this whole seduction just an elaborate scheme to distract Hannibal, to catch him off guard and finally assault him? It seems quite a stretch to Hannibal that Will would go to such length just to attack him.

Hannibal knows he should leave, as tempting as this whole situation is, it is just too good to be true. It has to be a trap. But he remains seated, feeling mesmerized and paralyzed at the same time by the touch of Will's hand. And besides, Hannibal is far too curious to just end this and leave. He has to know what will happen.

Will lets go of Hannibal's hand and stands up. He walks over to Hannibal, standing next to him, and reaches out. “Come with me, “ he says.

Hannibal hesitates, and Will chuckles. “You worry too much, Hannibal. You'd be so much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself.”

Hannibal smiles despite himself. “In spite of your empathy you clearly don't know me, Will. I never worry about anything.”

He takes Will's hand.

***

Will is leading them to his bedroom. Though Hannibal expected this, the whole situation seems more and more surreal to him. He watches Will undress and starts taking his own clothes off. He looks at Will's naked body, which is as beautiful as Hannibal imagined it, with several scars that in Hannibal's opinion just increase Will's beauty. He walks over to Will, who is now stark naked, like Hannibal himself, to inspect his scars. Some of them are large, appearing to have been quite grave injuries. Curiously, Hannibal regards them.

“Who did this to you?”

“I did this to myself,” Will answers, and Hannibal stares at him in disbelief. “You – harmed yourself and inflicted those wounds?”

Will shakes his head. “No, I didn't. But though I wasn't the one who inflicted them, I'm entirely to blame because they were caused by my actions.”

Hannibal doesn't know what to make of this answer, and frankly, he has other things on his mind. Will, his naked body, his sweet, intoxicating scent and Will's hardening cock that is pressing against Hannibal's thigh. Hannibal's breath quickens, and he feels his own cock getting hard. He can't resist any longer, he just has to touch Will. 

Hannibal reaches out and slowly touches Will's face. His hair, his cheek, his soft, beautiful lips. Will puts his hands around Hannibal's neck and looks up at him while Hannibal is caressing Will's body, his shoulders, his chest and belly. When he starts stroking Will's cock, Will moans softly. 

They lay down on the bed, next to each other, and Will bends over him, cups Hannibal's face and kisses him, both roughly and tenderly. Hannibal hugs Will, clinging to him and bringing them closer together, getting more and more aroused. When they finally stop kissing, Will whispers softly: “Do you want to fuck me?”

Hannibal freezes, taken aback by Will's crude choice of words and also by his proposal, though he knows it shouldn't surprise him, given the situation. In the back of his mind, Hannibal is still wondering what this is all about, what Will is up to, but Hannibal is far beyond the point at which he still could have ended this. So he just answers: “Yes, if that's what you want.”

Will smiles and opens the nightstand, extracting a bottle of lubricant and an anal plug. Hannibal kneels between Will's bent legs, coating his hole with lubricant and stretching it with his fingers before lubing the plug and pushing it into Will. Will moans, moving his hips while Hannibal pulls the toy out and shoves it back in again. The sight of the plug disappearing in Will's ass increases Hannibal's arousal beyond measure. He removes the toy, throws it on the floor and quickly lubricates his cock. 

“Yes,” Will says, panting. “I want you now. Please...”

This last word pushes Hannibal over the edge. He thrusts into Will with a long, deep stroke. 

“Yes,” Will moans again, lifting his hips greedily, his hard cock pressing against Hannibal's belly. 

And Hannibal forgets everything. He forgets his suspicions against Will, his confusion about this whole situation, forgets that Will and Abigail found out he is a cannibal. He actually forgets that he is a cannibal – or a murderer – or a psychiatrist or anything at all, he is literally fucking himself into oblivion. His world and the whole cause of his existence is reduced to this beautiful man lying under him, moaning, sweating, saying his name, smiling at him. Reduced to his taste, his scent, his body, his tightness encompassing Hannibal's cock. Hannibal moves faster, pushing deeper into Will, while holding his cock possessively, jerking Will off. Will whimpers helplessly and comes on Hannibal's hand, and the sight is enough for Hannibal to come as well, spilling into Will while kissing him deeply.

Slowly, Hannibal pulls out and lays down next to Will, breathing heavily. They are silent for a few minutes, then Will turns his head and looks at him, smirking. “I hope you enjoyed the dessert,” he says.

“I did indeed,” Hannibal agrees, smiling back at him.

“How about a massage?” Will asks. “I love massages, both giving and receiving them.”

“So do I,” Hannibal answers, wondering again what Will is up to. Is he trying to prevent him from leaving? “A massage is very useful from a medical point of view, causing both body and mind to relax, while at the same time increasing circulation and decreasing blood pressure.”

Will chuckles. “I forgot that you were a surgeon.”

Hannibal turns over, lying face down, and Will sits on Hannibal's butt to give him a massage, using the lubricant as a massage oil. For a moment, Hannibal wonders if this might be the moment when Will is going to attack him. Hannibal imagines Will stabbing him with an ice pick, suddenly remembering an extremely tasteless movie he watched decades ago. But Will seems to have no such intentions, and Hannibal enjoys his soft, but firm touch and sighs contently, completely relaxed and exhausted. 

After a while, Hannibal can feel Will's hands moving from his back down to his ass, and Will gets up for a moment to sit down again on Hannibal's thighs while slowly pushing a finger in Hannibal's asshole. Hannibal gasps in surprise but doesn't resist when Will adds another finger, then a third and finally brings his cock to Hannibal's hole. Hannibal is still too tired and exhausted to get aroused, but he enjoys feeling and smelling Will's arousal and being the cause of it. Slowly, Will pushes into him, laying down on top of Hannibal, his chest and stomach pressed against Hannibal's back, moving languidly while holding Hannibal tight.

“I'm impressed by your stamina, Will,” Hannibal says.

“Don't forget I'm quite a few years younger than you,” Will answers, and Hannibal just chuckles, unable to be offended by Will's remark. Will's pushes become faster and harder, and Hannibal revels in the sensation of being pressed down to the mattress by Will's sweating body and his hard cock. Hannibal is getting aroused again, and Will turns them over on their side. He rubs Hannibal's cock while fucking him, and Hannibal comes violently while screaming Will's name. Will groans with pleasure, holding Hannibal so tight that it feels as if he is going to crush his ribs, thrusts deep into him and comes inside him. They are both panting, utterly exhausted. Will is still inside Hannibal and holds him in his arms, spooning him.

“You are not what I expected you to be,” Will suddenly says, still panting.

“What did you expect me to be, Will?” Hannibal asks curiously, wondering if Will is finally going to confess that he knows Hannibal cannibalizes people.

“Cold,” Will answers.

Hannibal frowns. “You expected me to be cold, and I'm not? Well, what am I in your opinion?”

Will is silent for a moment, then he replies: “You are the loneliest person I've ever met. You are as alone as I was before I met Abigail.”

Finally, Will has managed to offend him. “I am certainly not lonely, Will. I have friends. And the opportunities for friends. Being intimate with me doesn't give you intimate knowledge of me.”

“Of course,” Will answers softly, stroking Hannibal's hair. I didn't mean to...It's the empathy disorder, I can't help it. Sorry.”

“I really should go now,” Hannibal says, trying to disentangle himself from Will's embrace, but Will won't let him go.

“Don't leave, Hannibal. Stay with me. Please.”

And Hannibal complies, wondering again for a brief moment if Will might have a reason for not letting him go. Perhaps, he muses, he just enjoys spending the night with me. Perhaps he doesn't even care what I did. This is the last thought Hannibal has before drifting into sleep in Will's arms.

***

The next morning, Will is already gone when Hannibal awakes. Hannibal stretches, feeling pleasantly exhausted and sore and notices the note on the nightstand.

“Good morning, Hannibal” it says, “I had to leave for work. I'm glad you liked the dessert, but if you want to try the bread pudding, you can find it in the fridge. Hope to see you soon – Will”

Hannibal smiles while bringing the note to his nose, inhaling Will's scent.

***

When Hannibal arrives at home and opens the door, he smells her immediately. The scent is unmistakable. Abigail. She must have been here last night. Hannibal feels as if the world is crashing down, as if the sky is falling. That was why Will didn't want him to leave. Hannibal should have realized, he knew something was off. Hannibal enters the house. Her scent lingers everywhere, in the pantry, in the basement, in his study. Abigail must have seen everything, the corpse, the meat, the drawings. Nothing is missing, but Hannibal assumes that she took pictures. She knows everything, and that means Will does as well.

Despite the rudeness, the dishonesty and the betrayal, Hannibal decides to forgive Will. Will only did what he thought was right. Now he will have to bear the consequences of his actions, and the question is – is Will going to forgive him?


	8. Chapter 8

“What is wrong with you, Will?”

Will gives Abigail a slightly irritated look. “Nothing is wrong with me. I don't know what you mean.”

“You are humming,” Abigail says, “and you are grinning like a jerk.” She sighs resignedly and looks around the room. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Will asks confusedly. 

“Your new dog. You got one, didn't you? Why else would you be so happy?”

Will shakes his head. “I don't have a new dog, I've got my hands full with Derek. I really don't know what you are talking about, Abigail.”

“Then you killed someone? You murdered a serial killer without telling me? How could you do such a thing!” Abigail says reproachfully.

“No, I didn't. I don't have a new dog, I didn't murder anyone without telling you, and I'm neither humming nor grinning. Please stop imagining things, Abigail.”

Abigail looks at Will, her eyes narrowing. “The only other time I saw you like this was when you were dating this teacher. Before you found out he was married. What happened last night, Will? What happened with Hannibal?”

“Nothing happened,” Will replies quickly. “I told you, we were having dinner and talking and I told him to stay because he was too drunk to drive, to make sure he wouldn't surprise you at his home.”

“Really? Was it really like that? And did he really sleep in the guest room?” Will averts his eyes and doesn't answer, and Abigail stares at him, dumbfounded. “Oh my god, how could you? With this monster?! You knew what he was, Will, I told you when we were dining with him. And now we've got the pictures to prove it and it's even worse than we thought.” She points at the photographs lying on the table. “He's not just a cannibal and a murderer, he's the fucking Chesapeake Ripper!” She almost screams the last words.

Will sighs. “Yes, I know. I know what he did and what he is. But...I thought maybe we could...change him and he could join us. I know he likes us, Abigail. And he's lonely. He's desperate for company, for someone who really understands him, someone who's like him.”

“We are not like him, Will. You said it yourself, we are not like the people we kill. We aren't evil, we are killing for a good cause. We are the good guys.”

“Honestly, Abigail, if we are supposed to be the good guys, I think one should really be scared of the bad ones.”

“Yes, one should,” Abigail replies, ignoring the sarcasm in Will's voice. “One should be scared of bad people, bad people like Hannibal, should avoid them or kill them but certainly not fuck-”

“Stop it, Abigail,” Will says sharply. “I won't have you talk to me like that. My love life and my relationship with Hannibal are none of your-”

“Your- love life? Your relationship with Hannibal?” Abigail repeats disbelievingly. “So now you are in a relationship with this creep and – in love with him? Seriously, what's wrong with you?” 

Will is about to answer when Abigail's gaze suddenly softens. “I'm sorry. I understand. I know what it's like,” she says. “I forget it sometimes because I want to forget but...I know what it's like to love someone who is evil. My father was a monster, but I still loved him. And I know that he loved me, that's why he killed all these girls. So that he wouldn't have to kill me. But...he never would have stopped, Will. I tried to talk to him, I tried to change him. To make him realize how much he made the other parents suffer, just like he would have suffered if somebody had killed me. And I even think he understood, but he just couldn't stop, because there was something wrong with him. He had to die, like all the other murderers we killed. And like Hannibal. They are never going to stop, you just can't change people like that.”

Will gives her a worried look, wondering for about the hundredth time if he helped her to overcome her problems or messed her up even more than her father did. When Will had killed Garret Jacob Hobbs, he had felt so alive, like he never did in his entire life. The righteous feeling of doing bad things to a bad person had excited him like nothing ever before. Will craved to experience this again, and when he found out that Tobias Budge was a killer, he murdered him one evening in his shop's basement. It was beautiful, even better than killing Hobbs, until he noticed that Abigail had followed him and had watched the murder. Will felt guilty and ashamed for exposing her to this, after everything she had been through already, but Abigail seemed neither shocked nor scared. Instead, she persuaded Will to display Tobias' body in a way that imitated his crimes.

Since that time, they had murdered four serial killers together. Apart from the danger of being killed themselves or being caught by the police, it also required a lot of research, both finding the killers and displaying them, and Abigail was as much involved in this as Will himself. In fact, Abigail had been the driving force in most of the murders, and oddly, when she became a killer, she also became much happier and more balanced. She told Will that she still felt guilty for being her father's lure, for helping him catch the girls he killed. Killing serial killers and displaying their bodies made her feel better about herself, like she was making amends for being her father's accomplice. It made Abigail feel just to stop the killers from committing more crimes, help the police to find their victims and still, from her point of view, honor the killers and their art, their design, by making them a part of it in death.

“What do you think?” Abigail says, rummaging through the pictures. They show drawings Hannibal made of all his killings as the Chesapeake Ripper. “How should we display him? I like the tree man, but that seems quite complicated. On the other hand, it can't be much more complicated than making gut strings or a human totem pole.”

Will shrugs. “I don't care. Maybe we should just get it over with and kill him, without displaying him.”

“No, we can't,” Abigail says, shaking her head violently. “We have to honor him and his design. Otherwise, it would be just murder.”

'It will be murder anyway', Will wants to say, but he doesn't.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Will is woken by his phone's ringtone. He groans and clumsily reaches for the phone on the nightstand, throwing it on the floor accidentally. Sleepily, he picks it up again. It's only half past five in the morning, and he hardly slept. 

He was thinking about Hannibal half the night, wondering what he should do. On the one hand, he knows that Abigail is right. Hannibal has to be stopped, and a sadistic killer like him, who regards his victims as pigs, sometimes even harvesting their organs while they are still alive, is very unlikely to have a change of heart and become a vigilante. 

But still...even if a part of Will was shocked to find out that Hannibal was not only a cannibal, but the infamous Chesapeake Ripper, another part doesn't even care. Or no...it's not really like that, Will does care. It's hard to even admit it to himself, but he...admires Hannibal. For his ability to pass undetected for years, possibly for decades. For the beauty of his murder tableaux, each of them a unique masterpiece, beautiful in its own way. There is a part of Will that believes it would be a loss to the world if Hannibal were to die. That the world would be a less interesting and beautiful place without Hannibal and his own unique perspective on life and art.

Will has always been able to see the beauty, the artistic quality of his victim's murder tableaus. That was the main reason why he and Abigail chose to display the serial killers, after all: To honor, to appreciate their design. But despite the beauty of their crime scenes, Will was always painfully aware of the misery the killers had caused their fellow human beings. His empathy disorder saw to that and made it easy for him to kill his victims, made him even feel good and righteous about it. 

With Hannibal, however, the situation has become more complicated. To Will, Hannibal is much more than a serial killer that has to be dealt with. He may be a monster, like Abigail said, but nobody knows as well as Will does that he is also very much a human being. Will remembers vividly – and fondly- the night he spend with Hannibal. Remembers feeling Hannibal inside him and hearing him scream Will's name when Will fucked him, remembers falling asleep while holding Hannibal in his arms. He just can't do it, even if he should. Maybe he could kill the Chesapeake Ripper, telling himself that it had to be done, but he can't kill his lover. Will is wondering how he is going to explain this to Abigail and if there might still be a way to convince Hannibal to become the third copycat killer and to quit killing as the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will yawns and looks at his phone. It's Jack Crawford. What does he want, Will is wondering. If anybody definitely knows that there hasn't been another copycat murder, it's Will. Frowning, Will answers the phone. “Hello, Jack? What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry to disturb you this early, Will. I'd like you to come to a crime scene. It's not a copycat murder, so it's none of your business actually, and if you don't want to that's fine, but I'd really appreciate hearing your opinion.”

Will sighs. “Okay, Jack, if you think I can help you, I'll be there. What about Ha...Dr Lecter? Is he going to come as well?”

“No, I called him already, but unfortunately, he can't join us. He has to take care of an emergency, a patient of his tried to kill himself. I hope...you are feeling stable enough without him, Will?”

Will scoffs. “Don't worry, Jack. I was just asking because...for no particular reason. Of course I feel stable enough, I told you before that I don't need a psychiatrist.” In fact I would feel less stable if he was there, Will is thinking. After our night together, it would probably be...awkward. 

“Where is the crime scene, Jack? Somewhere near Baltimore?”

“No,” Jack replies, suddenly sounding insecure. “That's the reason why I would have preferred to have Dr Lecter join us, as a source of stability in case you need one. It's...in Minnesota, Will.”

Will almost drops his phone. “Minnesota? I haven't been there since...”

Jack sighs. “Yes, Will, I know.”

***

Will is staring at the dead body that has been displayed in a Minnesota field. He should be used to it by now, but a young woman, in Abigail's age...that still gives him the creeps. The woman was impaled on antlers belonging to a stag's severed head. 

“The woman's name is Cassie Boyle. The stag's head was reported stolen last night about a mile from here,” Jack explains while Will is stepping over the police tape to give the corpse a closer look.

Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, who are gathering forensic evidence, are trying to shoo the crows sitting on the young woman's body.

Will is staring at the body, frowning, then he looks at Jack. “You know what this reminds me of, Jack, don't you?”

Jack nods. “Yes. Minnesota, the antler wounds, a young, dark haired girl...But this can't be, of course. Hobbs is dead.”

Will nods. “Yes, he definitely is. And besides...Garret Jacob Hobbs loved women. That's why he wanted to consume them, to keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought she was a pig.”

“He took her lungs. I think she was still alive when he cut them out,” Brian Zeller barges in. “This reminds me of the Chesapeake Ripper killings, but that's impossible of course. Abel Gideon is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.”

“Abel Gideon is not the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will answers without thinking. Jack and Brian are staring at him, and he quickly adds: “I know Dr Chilton claims that his patient is the Chesapeake Ripper, but I'm positive he isn't. I gave a lecture on the Ripper when I was a teacher, and Gideon doesn't fit the profile. The Ripper is probably a surgeon, like Gideon, but the way Gideon murdered his wife was impulsive, while the Chesapeake Ripper is always methodical, meticulous. Which is why he’s so hard to catch.”

“There hasn't been a Ripper murder since Gideon was incarcerated,” Zeller remarks.

“Well, not up to now,” Will replies. “But I wouldn't be surprised if...” 

Suddenly, Will stops talking, staring at the corpse. A woman whose killer thought she was a pig, with a missing organ, cut out while she was still alive...young, dark-haired, mounted on antlers in Minnesota...Oh my god, he is thinking, terrified. Oh my god, it's him. It's really him. He knows. He knows that we found out about his secret, and he knows that Abigail...

“I have to leave,” Will says hastily. “It's Abigail, it's an emergency. I'm sorry.”

Will is running across the field. He has to get to the airport as quickly as possible. The others are staring after him in bewilderment.

“But how do you know,” Jack is shouting after him, “You didn't even look at your phone.”

Will doesn't answer, he doesn't even hear Jack. All he can think of is Abigail. Please, he is thinking, while calling a taxi to bring him to the airport, his hands shaking. Please, don't let it be too late...please...


	10. Chapter 10

“If you dare lay so much as a finger on me, Will is going to torture you to death.”

Abigail's eyes are flashing while she is saying this, her voice filled with hate, her fists clenched. She is in Hannibal's basement, tied to a chair, and Hannibal can't help but smile while observing her, both impressed and amused by her defiance. She has so much potential, he is thinking. She probably learned a lot from Will already, but I'm sure there are still many things I could have taught her. It is really a shame.

“What's so funny about that? I'm serious, he will. Literally. You have no idea what he is capable of.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Hannibal answers, still smiling. “I think I have quite a good idea, as much as you have quite a good idea what I am capable of, Abigail.”

The girl scoffs, still defiant and obviously determined not to show her fear. “What is that supposed to mean? You are going to kill me, and then Will and you are going to torture each other to death? Sounds like a great plan.”

“I certainly do not plan to get killed,” Hannibal replies. “And though I have no doubt that Will is capable of extreme acts of cruelty, I am still confident that I would emerge victorious from a fight. You are aware who I am, Abigail, and Will can hardly compete with my experience. I have been killing for many years, long before I became known as the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“You wouldn't be the first experienced serial killer Will murders,” Abigail snaps, and Hannibal chuckles softly.

“So I take it that Will and you are indeed the copycat. I should have drawn this conclusion much earlier, as I have always wondered why Will's profile of the copycat killer seemed so evasive and stereotypical. He obviously intended to put Jack Crawford off the scent and to protect you. I assume you and Will were planning to kill me, Abigail, like the other serial killers before?”

Abigail is glaring at Hannibal hatefully. “Yes, we are the copycat. And I wanted to kill you, but Will didn't. He said you were lonely and he even wanted you to join us, to kill with us. He thought he could change you. Change a monster like you, can you imagine that? He wanted to believe in the best of you, and you pay him back by kidnapping me.”

Hannibal frowns, remembering Will's words: 'You are the loneliest person I've ever met. You are as alone as I was before I met Abigail.'

“You and your foster father tricked me,” he says. “And I don't respond very well to that, Abigail. In fact, I consider it to be rather rude.”

“Well, one could argue you tricked us as well,” Abigail replies. “You invited us to your house and fed us human meat, without us knowing it. I guess that makes us even.”

Despite himself, Hannibal finds himself smiling again at Abigail's audacity.

“Will should have received my message by now, I suppose he is going to be here soon. I'm really looking forward to talking to him. Unfortunately, you won't be present when he arrives, Abigail.”

Abigail is staring at Hannibal wide-eyed, suddenly unable to hide her fear any longer. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

***

Will is knocking at the door with both fists. “Open up, Hannibal! Open the fucking door or I'll...”

The door opens. “Hello, Will. Please come in,” Hannibal says. 

Will rushes inside and lunges at Hannibal, grabbing him by his shoulders, shaking him. “Where is she,” he screams, tears running down his face. “Where is Abigail, what have you done to her?”

Hannibal remains calm, letting Will attack him without putting up any resistance.

“Abigail is at a safe place.”

“What did you do to her,” Will is screaming again and punches Hannibal in the face. “Did you murder her, like the girl in Minnesota? Answer me, or I'm going to-”

“If you stopped screaming at me,” Hannibal replies, still unaffected, ignoring the blood that is coming from his nose, “I might have the chance to answer your question, Will. I didn't harm Abigail, as I said, she is in a safe place. I am willing to admit that I thought about killing her, but I changed my mind. Abigail is a remarkable young woman. I have seen an interview she gave after her father's death, and the woman I talked to today has nothing in common anymore with that damaged and terrified girl. You changed her, Will. You should be proud.”

Will forces himself to stay calm. “I'm going to ask you again,” he says slowly. “And I'm not going to scream this time. Where is my daughter? Where did you bring her?”

“I'm afraid that I'm not willing to inform you about her present location yet. First, I would like to make a proposal, a proposal that will be beneficial both for you and for me. I am confident that the prospect of getting Abigail back will provide an incentive for you to consider agreeing to it.”

“You want to use Abigail to blackmail me? You sick piece of shit. How could I ever...And what kind of proposal are you talking about? Do you want us to fuck again? I'd do anything to get Abigail back, but I doubt that it will be a very joyful experience for you, Hannibal, because just thinking of it makes me already want to throw up.”

“Does it? That is quite a rude thing to say, Will, if I may point that out. I would be pleased if you were to change your mind about this matter someday, as I enjoyed being intimate with you immensely and got the strong impression that this was mutual.” 

The hateful look Will gives him makes Hannibal smile, reminding him as much of Abigail as if he were her biological father. 

“However, our pleasant intimate encounter is entirely unrelated to my proposal,” Hannibal adds. “I believe that Abigail and you are facing a predicament, Will, and would like to suggest helping you, in a way that will also be favorable to me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“What could you possibly help us with?” Will asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I know that you and Abigail are the copycat, Will.”

Will just shrugs. “So? I've always been afraid you'd figure it out sometime, but honestly, I don't even care at this point. I very much doubt that you are in a position to report us, Hannibal. And all that matters to me at the moment is Abigail. I have no idea what kind of proposal you are talking about, but I told you, I'll do anything. I just want her back.”

Hannibal looks at him gravely. “You will get her back, Will. I promise, and I always keep my promises.”

Will returns his look, more desperate than hateful now. “I really hope so, for your own sake. If you hurt her, I'll kill you. I promise, and you're not the only one who keeps his promises.”

Hannibal can't help but smile. “This is exactly what your foster daughter told me. She said you would torture me to death if I dared lay so much as a finger on her. But as appealing as the prospect of engaging in a fight to the death with you may seem to me- you have no grounds for fear. I don't intend to kill Abigail anymore, though you deserve it for betraying me, Will.”

“In what way did I betray you?” Will asks irritatedly. “By- distracting you, so Abigail could search for evidence in your house? Is that what you consider betrayal? Then you shouldn't punish Abigail for it, you should punish me.”

Hannibal is silent for a moment before answering: “You both deserve punishment, as you were both involved in this. And I did punish you, Will. I knew abducting Abigail was the worst thing I could do to you. You made me believe that you enjoyed my company and used my attraction to you to invade my house and my privacy. I find this unspeakable rude, and I have killed people for less.”

Will frowns at him. “That's what's bothering you? Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm willing to admit that I did enjoy your company, I didn't just make you believe it. I shouldn't even say this, as your ego is big enough already, but to be honest, I was attracted to you from the start. I just thought it would be a bad idea to get too close to you. Well, if I wasn't right about that.” Will scoffs. “Are you satisfied now, Hannibal? Will you stop punishing me already and tell me where she is?”

Hannibal smiles. “Then it didn't bother you at all, Will? You already knew about my particular taste in food when I spend the night with you. And still it didn't touch your values and decency to be intimate with me?” he inquires curiously, ignoring Will's question.

Will sighs. “So you are really insisting on making me go through all of this before telling me anything about Abigail? Well- what do you think? Of course it bothered me, of course I was shocked when Abigail told me you were...a cannibal. But...I couldn't help it, I was still curious about you. When we first met, I had a weird feeling. It was...very confusing, it was like some kind of déjà vu. I kept wondering if we had met before, maybe when I was still a kid or a very young man. Some chance encounter that I only remembered subconsciously. But when Abigail realized what you were...I finally saw.”

“What did you see, Will?” Hannibal asks, obviously intrigued.

Will hesitates, groping for the right words. “I saw...that you seemed familiar because we were alike, because we were both killers. And though I find cannibalism abhorrent, and just thinking of it disgusted me, I was still hoping that...that you weren't like the other serial killers we murdered. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I was hoping you were like us, someone who kills solely bad people. As I told you that night, you weren't what I expected. You didn't seem like a cold-blooded killer, you seemed...lonely. Of course I seduced you so that you wouldn't leave and surprise Abigail at your house, but...if I'm being completely honest, it was also what I had been wanting to do all along. I'm sure I could have found another way to make you stay if I had wanted to, but...I didn't. I even imagined we could team up, you, Abigail and me. What a crazy idea, seems kind of embarrassing now. I should have known that someone capable of eating a human being can be nothing but evil. Someone like that can only be a monster, murdering young girls like Abigail and taking out their liver while they are still alive.”

Hannibal shakes his head, still smiling slightly and obviously not offended by Will's last words. “Cassie Boyle was hardly like Abigail, and she happened to be a very impolite and disrespectful young woman. I thank you for your honesty, Will. Let me be equally honest with you. As I know how much you care about Abigail, I would like to point out that circumstances might become difficult for both of you if you are not going to initiate countermeasures. Admittedly, it took me quite a while to find out that Abigail and you are the copycat, though it should have been obvious early on. Your wariness, your reluctance when it came to profiling the killer should have given you away. The mere fact that a man with your qualifications quit the FBI altogether to become a janitor- it struck me as odd, obviously, but I attributed it to the mental health issues you had after killing Hobbs. Instead, I should have guessed that you were trying to stay as far away as possible from your former line of work to avoid being noticed and arousing suspicion.”

Will nods. “Yes, it was for the best to leave the FBI for good and to keep a low profile, for my own safety and Abigail's, especially after we became the copycat. And I didn't really mind anyway, I don't care anymore what I do for a living. My vocation is not working for the FBI, as I used to believe, but serving justice by murdering serial killers. And protecting and supporting Abigail is my utmost goal. These are the only two things I really care about.” Will stops talking. What is wrong with me, why am I telling Hannibal all this while he won't even tell me where Abigail is, he wonders, angry at himself.

“And you are indeed good at these things, Will,” Hannibal replies appreciatively. “I'm quite impressed with your and your foster daughter's abilities. However, profiling the copycat puts you at great risk. Sooner or later, Uncle Jack is going to get suspicious. He will wonder why you find it much more difficult to catch the copycat than you found catching Hobbs.”

Will shrugs. “Maybe, but there's not very my much I can do about it. All I can do is telling half-truths, without giving away too much, and hoping that it will be enough to leave Jack in the dark.”

Hannibal gives him a doubtful look. “You know this is not sustainable, Will. If protecting Abigail is your utmost goal, there are other means that you should think about.”

“And what means would that be?”

“What you need is a patsy, someone to frame for your murders.”


	12. Chapter 12

“A patsy?” Will gives Hannibal a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I think that should be obvious. To get away with your crimes, you need to frame someone. As I said, Jack is going to get suspicious otherwise.”

Will shakes his head. “No way. I'm definitely not going to frame an innocent person for the murders we have committed.”

“I strongly suggest to give this some thought, Will, for your own and Abigail's sake. Besides, I have always considered innocence a relative term.”

“What do you get out of it?” Will asks suspiciously. “You said it was for your benefit as well as for ours.”

Hannibal smiles. “I have my reasons, Will. You know there are quite a few things I find discourteous, and one of the most offensive ones is having your identity taken away from you.”

Will stares at him in confusion for a few moments until it finally dawns on him. “That's what this is about?” he says, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Really? You are even more narcissistic than I thought. You can't stand the idea of someone claiming to be the Chesapeake Ripper, this mastermind that has been evading the police for years.” Will scoffs. “Very discourteous, indeed. But I'm afraid there is not much you can do about that, Hannibal. Abel Gideon is in prison, you can't frame him. There's no way he could have been the copycat.”

“Yes, that's truly a shame,” Hannibal replies. “But I'm sure you are aware, Will, that Gideon didn't come up with this notion by himself. It was undoubtedly his psychiatrist who got inside Gideon's head and made him believe he was the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will nods. “Chilton? Yes, I'm also convinced it was him. Everybody knows he's fascinated with homicidal psychopaths. He was so desperate to have one in his hospital that he messed with Gideon's head to make him believe he was the Ripper, though Gideon doesn't even fit the profile. But I really don't see how anybody is supposed to believe that this fool was able to commit the copycat crimes.”

“We will make them believe, Will. Both of us and Abigail.”

***

“How long are you going to keep me here?” Abigail gives him an angry look.

“Not for long, Abigail,” Hannibal answers. 

“I told you, Will is going to kill you if you hurt me,” Abigail says, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes, I know. He told me so, and I'm convinced that he would. You are family, after all. Family values may have declined over the years, but we still take care of our own. But as I told Will already, I have no intention to hurt you. Not anymore. You and Will convinced me otherwise. You should consider yourself fortunate to have a foster father like him.”

“I know,” Abigail answers, still wary. “But you know that I wanted to kill you, I still do. Because you are a murderer and a cannibal and deserve to die. Why do you want to spare me anyway? It's because of Will, isn't it? Because you know he would never forgive you if you hurt me.”

“Yes,” Hannibal answers after being silent for a moment. “And because I think that the world is a more interesting place with you in it, Abigail. I am impressed by everything you have become, assisted by your fathers, but still completely by your own design.”

“Don't compare Will to my biological father. He was a monster, Will is nothing like him,”Abigail snaps.

Hannibal smiles. “You have to understand that both of your fathers loved you in their own way and both never wished for anything but your happiness. Every family loves differently, every love is unique. But while your first father's love was almost the death of you, Will's love gave you a new life.”

Abigail gives him a thoughtful look. “That's true,” she says, less angry now. “But what about yours, Dr Lecter? You are in love with Will, aren't you? Does your love mean life or death?”

Hannibal holds her gaze, still smiling, and answers: “I hope you will soon come to realize that I only want what's best for Will. And for you.”

***

Jack is sitting at Bella's bedside, watching her sleep. He strokes her face softly, smiling tenderly. Even ravaged by disease, Bella is the most beautiful woman in the world to him. When he looks at her, he still sees the young, stunningly beautiful woman that turned every man's head in Italy. He can still hear them shout: “Bella, Bella!”, can still hear Bella chuckle softly in reply. “Please, don't leave me, Bella,” he whispers. “Please, stay with me. At least for a little while.”

When his phone suddenly rings, Jack startles. Quickly, he gets up and leaves the room, afraid to wake Bella.

It's Will. Surprised, Jack answers the phone. “Yes, Will?”

“Jack?” His former colleague's voice sounds strange, reluctant and somehow strained. “I'm sorry for calling this late, but it's important. It's about the copycat.”

“Yes, Will, what is it?”

“I think...I think I found a suspect, Jack.”


	13. Chapter 13

“How often do I have to tell you I didn't do it?” Dr Chilton asks, looking desperately at Jack Crawford, who is sitting opposite him in the interrogation room.

“You can tell me as often as you like to, Dr Chilton,” Jack says, returning Chilton's gaze detachedly.

“But you can't expect me to believe you. We found evidence at your house, trophies of every single copycat victim.”

“I have no idea how they got there!” Chilton exclaims, even more desperate now. “Someone must have planted them. Someone is trying to frame me.”

“Well, it's not just the trophies,” Jack points out. “There are other things pointing in your direction. Your fascination with serial killers, the articles you published on the Chesapeake Ripper, but also on the copycat. You used to be a surgeon, and your knowledge of the human body would have come in handy for several copycat crimes, like the angel maker or the gut string case. And speaking of the gut string case- we know about you and Tobias Budge, the first copycat victim.”

Chilton is getting slightly paler. Groping for words, he finally says: “There is nothing to know about me and Tobias Budge. Well, almost nothing. We just- went on a few dates. But- I realized soon that something was wrong with him, he was just too- peculiar. He said strange things, about wanting a friend who shared his special interests, and I had the distinct feeling that he wasn't talking about hobbies or sexual preferences, but about...something else I rather didn't want to know. And this silly friend of his kept telling me that I should be careful, that Tobias was a psychopath...It just became too weird, and I ended it, that was all. Of course I was shocked when I found out a few months later that he was a serial killer and was murdered himself, but I had nothing to do with his death, you have to believe me!”

Jack just looks at him without answering, and after a few minutes, Chilton slumps in his chair and whispers: “ I want to talk to my lawyer.”

Jack nods. “Yes, I think that would be wise, Dr Chilton.”

***

“I can't believe it,” Will says, shaking his head. “I can't believe she kept trophies.”

“You should be glad she did, Will,” Hannibal replies. “Otherwise, it would have been much more difficult to frame Dr Chilton.”

Will doesn't seem to listen. ”After we killed them, she always said she wanted to be alone with them for a moment, to say good bye. Of course I respected this and retreated. I thought that maybe she was thinking of her father, that she was sad and perhaps felt guilty and just needed some time alone...And instead, she took trophies, some blood and a strand of hair from each of our victims, to keep them in a little box...” He shudders. “Why did she do it? Did she tell you why she kept the trophies, Hannibal?”

“She just stated that she wished to have a keepsake, to remind herself what she was capable of.”

“Oh my god,” Will exclaims, burying his face in his hands.

“Would you mind telling me what exactly you find so disturbing about this, Will?” Hannibal asks.

Will frowns. “Well, I think that should be obvious. Keeping trophies is clearly deranged and psychopathic behavior.”

“Well,” Hannibal remarks, “ And what kind of behavior is killing and displaying the bodies? What did you believe your foster daughter to be?”

Will stands up and starts walking to and fro in Hannibal's office. “A victim,” he answers sharply. “A traumatized young girl, who was exposed to unbearable things nobody should experience when she was almost a child and who tried her best to cope. All I wanted was to help her. I didn't mean to make her...a monster.”

“So that is what Abigail is to you now? A monster? What do you consider yourself, Will?”

Will sighs. “I have no illusions about myself. Not anymore. I know what I am and what I'm capable of. But Abigail...I know it sounds stupid, but she is still so young, and I was hoping it might be just...a phase. Her own way of dealing with the things that happened to her. I was hoping that she might get over it some day and live a normal life. But now, after finding out she even kept trophies...I doubt it.”

“I am also very much in doubt that your foster daughter will ever live a normal life,” Hannibal says, smiling. “But you should feel neither guilty nor distressed about this, Will. Instead, you should embrace it and support Abigail in her becoming. She is much more than a victim or Hobbs' or your own daughter. By finding a way to cope, as you phrase it, she became her very own creation.”

Will scoffs. “Well, I'm not in the least surprised that you are excited by this. Of course you would enjoy watching a young girl becoming a monster. I suppose you appreciate the company.”

“As I said before,” Hannibal answers quietly, ignoring Will's remark, “Whatever you think of Abigail's behavior, you should be glad she kept trophies. They turned out to be very useful, after all.”

Will smirks. “They did indeed. As did the revelation that Chilton and Budge knew each other. How do you know about that anyway, Hannibal? How come Chilton told you?”

“Well, after Dr Chilton started claiming that Gideon was the Chesapeake Ripper, I often invited Chilton for dinner to find out more about Gideon and about Dr Chilton's...unorthodox therapy methods. Frankly, I was planning to kill him, but was waiting for the right moment to ensure I would get away with it. On one of these occasions, shortly after Tobias Budge was killed by the copycat, Chilton told me that he knew Budge intimately. He positively boasted about it, claiming that he ended the relationship due to his extraordinary psychological insight that made him realize Tobias Budge was a psychopath and possibly a killer. “

“Tasteless,” Will mutters, making Hannibal smile again. 

“If I may say so, you don't seem too concerned anymore about framing an innocent man, Will,” Hannibal says.

Will averts his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. “Well...I wouldn't say I'm unconcerned, but...honestly, I'd almost say Chilton had it coming. He manipulated his patient in a highly unethical way, just to be able to brag about having a famous serial killer in his institution. And...I met Chilton once and didn't particularly like him. He tried to question me about Abigail in a very rude way and made fun of my empathy disorder, calling it “a unique cocktail of personality disorders and neuroses.”

Hannibal chuckles softly. “I see. Chilton is a very rude person indeed. I agree with you, he had it coming.”

“Well, be that as it may, I did everything you wanted me to, Hannibal. I planted the evidence and informed Jack that you told me Chilton and Budge were having an affair,” Will says, suddenly irritated. “Now it's your turn to keep your end of the bargain. You promised to set her free.”

“I will,” Hannibal answers.

“You better should. I'm done with your games, and if I don't get her back soon, you are going to regret it.”

“I told you before, Will, you don't need to worry. You will get her back, I always keep my promises.“

Will sighs. “I really hope so, for your own sake.” 

Oddly, Will is less worried than he should be. Something tells him that Hannibal is going to keep his promise, that he will see Abigail soon. Hannibal doesn't want to antagonize me anymore, Will is thinking. He wants me to like, not to hate him, that's why he will keep his promise to give Abigail back to me. 

But as happy as Will is at the prospect of seeing Abigail again, there is one thing that is bothering him, that has occupied his mind since Hannibal suggested framing someone for the copycat crimes. Even though he knows that Hannibal has a point, that sooner or later, Jack would have become suspicions, Will still can't help but wonder: What am I going to do now? What am I going to do, now that I can't murder serial killers as the copycat anymore? He doesn't know how he is supposed to live without all this, the anticipation, the joy of killing, the feeling of satisfaction and righteousness after a kill- what is he supposed to do without this? And, even worse, - what is Abigail supposed to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting. 
> 
> The trophies Abigail keeps in a little box are of course a reference to my second favorite serial killer, Dexter Morgan. :)


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Will is woken up early by his dog's barking, signaling that there is a visitor even before the door bells rings. He gets up and walks to the front door sleepily, accompanied by the dogs. Will opens the door and sees Abigail, standing in front of him, and Hannibal behind her.

“Abigail,” Will whispers. He gives his foster daughter a hug. “I'm so glad that you are back,” he says, holding Abigail tight while his eyes well up with tears. “I'm so glad...”

He swallows and gives the young woman a thorough look. “Are you alright?”

Abigail nods, looking at him with her bright blue eyes. “Yes, I'm fine.”

Will glances at Hannibal, who is watching them with a little smile, and frowns.

“Come in,” he says coolly.

***

“I told you, I always keep my promises,” Hannibal says, smiling at Will. They are sitting at the table in Will's living room, surrounded by Will's pack of dogs, which is watching them curiously. Derek is among them, as Will finally succeeded in adjusting the dog to his new pack. 

Abigail told Will that she was tired and exhausted and went to her room to take a rest.

“Do you expect me to be grateful?” Will snaps at Hannibal while patting Winston's head. “Should I thank you for bringing my daughter back after abducting her and scaring the shit out of me?"

Hannibal frowns at Will's choice of words. “Well, I did not expect gratefulness exactly,” he replies. “But some amount of appreciation, for changing my plans in your favor.”

Will shakes his head in disbelief. “You want me to be appreciative because you changed your mind and didn't kill Abigail? Well, thank you very much, Hannibal. I really appreciate it.”

He stands up so quickly that he almost knocks down his chair and Winston retreats, whining softly. 

Will stares down at Hannibal, giving him a death glare, and screams: “I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD! DURING THE WHOLE FLIGHT FROM MINNESOTA BACK HOME I THOUGHT YOU HAD KILLED HER. I EXPECTED TO FIND HER MOUNTED ON ANTLERS LIKE THAT POOR GIRL YOU MURDERED! I HAVE NEVER BEEN THAT TERRIFIED IN MY WHOLE LIFE! AND NOW YOU EXPECT ME TO APPRECIATE YOU DIDN'T MURDER HER? SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Will suddenly stops screaming, takes a deep breath and sits down again, staring at the table in silence. His pack huddles up and watches him anxiously and confusedly.

Finally, Hannibal breaks the silence and says: “I apologize for upsetting you. I know that I caused you and Abigail anguish and I sincerely regret it. But you have to admit that you caused me some distress as well and invaded the privacy of my home. I hope we can forgive each other, Will. I would very much like to spend more time with you and Abigail, as I have begun to regard you as family.”

Will scoffs. “Family? I'm not sure you know what that even means.” He gives Hannibal a glance, and his angry look softens a bit when he says: “Family means pissing each other off- a lot- and hurting each other. Nobody can hurt you like your family can. I know that you- have feelings for me, Hannibal. And all your talking about Abigail and how great it is that she's obviously a full-blown psychopath who even keeps trophies...I know that you want us to be together, me, you and Abigail, and to kill as the Chesapeake Ripper, now that we can't kill as the copycat anymore. Your own little murder family, that's what you want, isn't it?” He gives Hannibal a questioning look.

Hannibal hesitates for a moment before answering: “It would indeed delight me if you and Abigail decided to kill with me, Will. You could still display the bodies, and I would be willing to leave the choice of victims up to you.”

“You would?” Will asks, surprised and slightly suspicious. Then he shakes his head. “This won't work, Hannibal. Frankly, I'm scared, not for me, but for Abigail. You know hurting her is the worst thing you could do to me. What if we were a family and I did something that would really hurt you- and I would, because as I said, hurting each other is what family members do, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without intention. Would I come back home one day and find Abigail dead in my kitchen, with her liver cut out? Or would you wait for me, would you want me to see you murdering her right before my eyes, to punish me even more?”

“I have no intention to harm you or Abigail,” Hannibal remarks gravely. “I only want what's best for both of you, and I want you to believe in the best of me.”

Will sighs. “I can't. I'm sorry. I won't tell anybody that you are the Chesapeake Ripper, as I expect you to keep it to yourself that Abigail and I are the copycat. We won't kill you, and I expect you to leave us alone as well. But I never want to see you again. You are dangerous, and I can't trust you. Being a family requires trust. I don't want Abigail and I to be your family. Please leave, Hannibal. Good bye.”

Hannibal doesn't answer. He is staring at his hands in silence, misty-eyed, his lips trembling slightly . O god, Will is thinking, appalled, Hannibal is about to cry. He wants to reach out for him and take his hand, but before Will can bring himself to do it, Hannibal stands up.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he says, his voice trembling, and leaves quickly without looking at Will again.

Will takes are deep breath, fighting back the tears. He knows he shouldn't feel guilty, after everything Hannibal put him through, but he does.

“So you think I'm a psychopath?”

Will startles. Abigail is standing in the threshold, watching him.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“A while,” Abigail answers softly. Will walks over to her and hugs her again. “I'm sorry, Abigail. I'm sorry for what I said.”

“Hannibal says I'm a survivor and terms like 'sociopath' and 'psychopath' are just labels of no significance,” Abigail remarks.

“He's right,” Will answers while stroking Abigail's hair. “I'll give him that much. I'm really sorry. I may not understand why you kept the trophies, but I don't judge you, Abigail. How could I, of all people?”

“Hannibal understood. Probably because he took trophies himself, to...eat them.” She shudders and gives Will a look. “I know he's not a good person, but...maybe we should have done it. Maybe we should have killed together with him. I'll miss the killings, Will. Honestly...I don't know if I can stop.”

A shiver runs down Will's spine. “Of course you can,” he answers, stroking Abigail's back soothingly and trying to sound more reassuring than he feels. “You'll concentrate on your studies now that you don't have to do research on serial killers and their design anymore. No more killings, no more fears that we are going to get seriously injured or caught by the police...it's a good thing that it's over, Abigail. We've saved enough lives. We have killed enough serial killers.”

Abigail looks at him again, frowning. “Is that really how you feel? And what about you? Maybe I can concentrate on my studies, but what are you going to do now, Will?”

Will sighs. Abigail has a point. He took the non-demanding job as a janitor to have enough time and energy to take care of the murders and their preparation. Without the copycat murders his job is probably going to bore him to death. And Abigail is not the only one who will miss the killings.

“We'll see,” he answers, shrugging. “Maybe I'll get a new job. Or a new dog,” he adds, chuckling and glancing at his already huge pack of dogs.


	15. Chapter 15

“Being alone comes with a dull ache, doesn't it?”

Hannibal stopped listening to Franklyn's ramblings a while ago, which is unlike him. Usually, Hannibal pays attention to his patients and their words, as dull and banal they may be. Today he finds this difficult, though. He keeps imagining someone else sitting opposite him instead of Frankyln, someone much more beautiful and intriguing, which distracts him from listening to his patient's words. Until all of a sudden, his fantasies are disrupted by Franklyn's inconvenient question.

Hannibal looks at his patient coolly, seemingly unperturbed. “It can.”

Franklyn sighs. “I know I probably bore you, Dr Lecter, but I still can't stop thinking about Tobias. I know it's crazy, but I still miss him. I'm not even sure if he considered me his friend, but to me, he was my best friend. My only one, to be completely honest. And now that they found his killer...Did you know him? He was a psychiatrist as well, and I read he also used to be a surgeon. You seem to have a lot in common.”

Hannibal's face doesn't betray his thoughts, doesn't show his indignation about being compared to someone like Dr Chilton. “Yes, Dr Chilton was my colleague, but I did not know him very well. We were merely acquaintances, not friends.” 

Franklyn nods at that. “I knew him a little as well, and I never would have believed him to be capable of all the horrible things he did. I didn't like him, though, I found him quite arrogant and smug. Not even Tobias seemed to really like him, he kept making jokes about killing him one day and using his intestines as gut strings for an instrument...Of course I hoped he was joking, but I wasn't entirely sure, so I told Chilton about this, as a warning...Do you think that's why he did it, Dr Lecter? Do you think that's why he killed Tobias in the same way, by using his guts as strings? Do you think I gave Dr Chilton the idea and that's what pushed him over the edge and why he became the copycat? Is everything my fault?”

Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. He finds himself feeling immensely exhausted and annoyed by Franklyn's ongoing self-deprecation, in a way he never experienced before during his entire career as a psychiatrist. Recently, his usual ease of mind and contentedness seems to decrease rapidly, substituted by annoyance, tiredness and ...a dull ache. He wonders why he didn't give Franklyn a referral yet, as he has been wanting for months.

“Blaming yourself won't be of any use, and I am convinced you know that this kind of self-recrimination is both pointless and unfounded. You are not the cause of Frederick Chilton becoming a serial killer, Franklyn. Talking to him about Tobias' sinister allusions hardly made Dr Chilton a murderer.”

Franklyn seems a little comforted. “What does make someone a murderer, though?” he asks, looking at his psychiatrist curiously. “Why do you think Chilton did it?”

“I'm not qualified to speculate on that, as there are a countless number of reasons for committing murder. One can never be sure about another person's motives and agenda, which is why you have no grounds for feeling guilty about Chilton. You couldn't possibly have known what he was capable of, Franklyn. There are killers that hide in plain sight, unbeknownst to everybody around them. One may believe oneself to be surrounded solely by sheep, entirely unaware of the lion in the room.”

“Are you saying everybody could be a psychopath and a killer? Well, now you are really scaring me, Doctor,” Franklyn says, staring at him wide-eyed and terrified, and Hannibal takes an inconspicuous glance at his watch. Fortunately for Franklyn, this bother is going to be over in a few minutes. Otherwise, his patient possibly wouldn't have survived this session.

***

After Frankly finally left, Hannibal remains sitting, staring at the empty chair opposite him with a frown. Perhaps I should relocate, he is thinking. A change of scenery might have a positive, invigorating effect. I could return to Italy. It has been so many years, even that vexatious policeman who used to stalk me won't probably remember me anymore. Hannibal smiles, thinking fondly of Florence, the place where everything really began, where he started his career as an artist, inspired by the city and its mesmerizing beauty.

He is giving this idea some serious thought and wonders whether he should kill Will before he leaves for Europe. Whether it would be preferable to know that the only place where Will still exists is in Hannibal's memory palace, a place where Hannibal can always visit him and will be welcomed. Instead of knowing that Will still lives in this world after rejecting him, perhaps even shares his life with someone else who will be unable to see, let alone appreciate Will's true potential...

Hannibal's dark thoughts are interrupted by his ringing phone, and he takes a short look at the unknown number before answering. “Hello?”

For a few minutes, all he hears is heavy breathing. Indignant, he is about to hang up, when finally a familiar voice says: “Hannibal...I need your help. You...used to be a surgeon, didn't you?”

Suddenly, Hannibal has difficulty in breathing and feels nauseous and slightly dizzy. “Why are you asking? What is it, Abigail? Is something wrong with Will?”

“No, it's not about him,” the soft voice answers, and Hannibal breathes a sigh of relief. It takes him a few moments to gather himself together, then he asks: “Then why are you calling? Are you in need of medical advice? How may I help you?”

“It's...please don't tell Will, he'd be so disappointed...he wanted us to stop...”

This provokes Hannibal's curiosity. It seems I have been right about her, he is thinking, smiling affectionately and proudly. “Did you kill someone, Abigail? Alone?”

The girl sobs softly. “Yes...I did. But...something went wrong. I'm injured. Please help me.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting.
> 
> Trigger warning: mentions of rape (not Abigail), mentions of a child's unnatural death

“Don't worry, Abigail. Everything is going to be alright.”

Hannibal smiles at the young woman reassuringly while tending her wounds. “It's worse than it looks. You've lost quite a bit of blood, but a transfusion won't be necessary. Fortunately, no organs were injured either.”

Abigail nods, trying to smile back at Hannibal. “I guess I...panicked. I'm not used to doing this without Will, it was harder than I thought. I feel a bit embarrassed about calling you, of all people... It's just...I couldn't tell Will, and I didn't know who else to call.”

“Well, I suppose despite your minor injury, one could say you were doing quite well without Will,” Hannibal remarks, glancing at the young man's limp body, lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. “And you should never feel embarrassed about asking me for help, Abigail. Would you mind telling me what happened?”

Abigail lets out a shaky breath. “I...please promise you won't tell Will.”

“I promise.”

“Will...just wouldn't understand. He already thinks that I'm messed up, that I'm a psychopath. And he didn't even fit our code. He wasn't a serial killer,” she explains, looking at the corpse contemptuously. “He was just...a pig.”

“I'm sure he had it coming,” Hannibal says.

“Yes, definitely,” Abigail answers darkly. “He did...something horrible and disgusting. He...raped my roommate. Here, in our room, last month, when I was at Will's place. I noticed that something was wrong with her, but she told me only yesterday. I wanted her to got to the police, but she was afraid they wouldn't believe her. Because she kissed him on a party and took him home with her afterwards. He said everybody would believe she wanted it because everybody knew she was a slut. And when she told me, I got so angry...” Abigail clenches her fists. “I just had to do something.”

“And what did you do, Abigail?” Hannibal questions curiously.

“I...made him believe I was into him. I had to, to get him here. And when he tried to kiss me, I took my knife and...”

“You butchered him,” Hannibal says appreciatively, glancing at the deep, gashing wound that extends from the corpse's throat to its abdomen.

“Yes...I guess you could say that. It wasn't the first time I did this, but without Will...it was different. I had the element of surprise, he didn't see it coming, but despite his fatal wounds, he somehow managed to pull out the knife and stab me before he died.”

“I'm quite impressed, Abigail. You overpowered an obviously stronger opponent, all by yourself, and emerged victorious with merely a minor injury. Will should be proud of you.” Hannibal, for one, finds himself feeling immensely proud of the young woman, pleased by her courage and her evolving design.

“Well, I doubt that he would be,” Abigail replies, smiling sadly. “He mustn't know about this. Will doesn't want us to kill anymore. He would just be disappointed and worried about me.”

“That is a shame. I wished Will could appreciate your becoming as much as I do. How is he, Abigail? How is he doing, without the copycat killings?”

Abigail shrugs. “Good, I guess. Sometimes I wonder if he misses killing as the copycat, but he seems to be fine. He's got a new job. As an assisting teacher, at the school were he used to work as a janitor. For children with special needs.”

Hannibal raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Indeed?”

Abigail chuckles. “Yes, indeed. Unbelievable, isn't it? I never would have guessed that he would work as a teacher again, let alone with young children. But apparently, he has a...connection with them, it's probably because of his empathy disorder. Everything started with this boy who became mute after his sister was murdered.”

Hannibal just stares at her, for once at a loss for words. “....What?”

“Yes, I know it's weird, but there was this boy at his school who everybody believed to be...well, not very smart, because he didn't talk at all. Turns out he is smart and just traumatized. He had a little sister no one knew about, their parents locked her in the basement and didn't tell anybody about her, they say there was 'something wrong with her'. Eventually, the parents even stopped feeding her and forbade her brother to bring her food and water, and...she died. They told their son not to tell anybody, and that's why he stopped talking altogether. Terrible story, isn't it?...Hannibal? Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Hannibal says absently, quickly closing the door to a room in his memory palace he has no intention to ever enter again. “And Will...found out about all these things?”

Abigail nods. “Yes, somehow, he managed to...communicate with this boy, in his weird, empathic way. The little sister's body was found, and the parents were charged with murder. The boy is living in a foster home now and is talking again. And that's how Will realized he could use his gift for something else than catching killers. He understands these children better than the other teachers or the school psychologist, sometimes even better than their own parents. Especially the ones who have trouble communicating. And they love his dogs,” Abigail laughs, “He often brings one or two of them with him to class.”

Hannibal has difficulty reconciling the elementary school teacher Abigail describes with the cunning serial killer he knows and feels a twinge of disappointment. “And you think that this kind of life...is really what Will aspires to?”

Abigail shrugs. “I'm not sure. You know Will, you can never really tell what he thinks, he can be very secretive. All I know is that he's trying to change. And he wants me to change, too. But I can't, and I won't.” With a sudden determination, she looks Hannibal in the eye. “I want to display the body.”

“I would be delighted to assist you with this task,” he says, smiling. “What do you have in mind, Abigail?”

“I want to show the world what he was.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for commenting, I really appreciate it. :)

“Bye-bye, Mr Graham, bye-bye, Winston!” The little redheaded girl smiles brightly, showing her missing teeth, and waves at Will and his dog while leaving the classroom.

Will returns her smile, waving back at her. “Bye, Grace. See you tomorrow.”

He packs his bag and leaves the room together with Winston. While he is driving back home, Will muses how weird it is that he ended up as an elementary school teacher, something he would never have considered a few years ago. The mere idea of teaching children with special needs would have seemed absurd to him back then. He was a social recluse, the only time he really felt safe was when he was alone in his little house, with just his dogs keeping him company. Teaching at the FBI Academy didn't really require him to be social, he was just talking at the students, not listening to them.

Will's new job is completely different, though. He has to listen to the children to help them with their learning difficulties and, above all, to understand them. Often, they have been misunderstood, even by their own parents, for their entire life. But Will sees them, listens to them in his particular way and understands what makes them happy or causes them pain, even if they can hardly talk. Will thinks about Abigail, the first person who crossed his boundaries and made him realize that he has the capacity to be protective and caring. She changed him, he probably wouldn't have become an elementary school teacher if it weren't for her.

Will also thinks of his own childhood, remembers sitting in class with his eyes closed and his hands covering his ears, in a futile attempt to exclude the other children's thoughts and emotions. His teacher was concerned and suggested testing Will for autism. This was the first time Will's father talked to him about his gift. Their gift.

“It runs in the family,” Will's father said. “We are different because we can see the world through other people's eyes like nobody else can. That's why we build forts and shut ourselves off from other people. Otherwise, we feel everything they feel and think everything they think, and it can become too much and drive us crazy. There's nothing we can do to change this, you will have to find your own way to deal with it, Will.” His father ruffled Will's hair, and Will still remembers how relieved he was that his father understood how he felt and that what he experienced didn't mean he was going crazy.

It had been easier after that, at least a little. Will built forts, like his father had advised him to, which made him feel lonely, but helped him deal with his empathy disorder. Until he killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. After that, everything changed. Will's forts began to crumble, and he allowed himself to give in to his darkest fantasies. He started using his empathy to track down and murder serial killers, submitting to darkness and, worst of all, dragging Abigail into it. But Will is determined to change his life, to find a new path. He finally wants to use his gift for something good, something constructive, wants to help children be understood and understand themselves.

Will is still deep in thought when he arrives at his home. It takes him a moment to notice the car parked in front of his house. He frowns when he sees Jack Crawford sitting on the porch. Will leaves the car, followed by Winston, walks to the front door and opens it to let his dogs out. Then he finally addresses Jack.

“Hello, Jack. What brings you here?”

“Hello, Will. I would like to ask for your help with a new case.”

Will sighs. “Sorry, Jack, but...I can't. I helped you catch the copycat, now I'm done. Frankly, I've had enough. I just don't want to expose myself to murders and killers anymore.”

Jack nods. “This is entirely up to you of course. But I thought this case might interest you because you gave a lecture on the killer when you were teaching at the Academy.”

Despite himself, Will's curiosity is provoked. “You already know who the killer is?”

“Well, not for sure. But we think it might be the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will stares at Jack in silence for a moment, then he says:“Let me just feed my dogs, then we can leave.”

***

Will can't stop shaking. He feels sick and dizzy, as if he is going to throw up. I have to leave, he is thinking, I have to get away from here and talk to her as quickly as possible before Jack is going to get suspicions. 

“Jack...I'm sorry, but...I have to leave. I have to call Abigail. Finding out that a student who attended her college was murdered, maybe even someone she knew...It will bring back bad memories. Abigail is a very sensitive girl, and you know she's been through a lot... I have to make sure she's alright.”

Jack nods sympathetically. “I understand. But before you leave- is this the Chesapeake Ripper's doing? What do you think, Will?”

Will is looking at the body that was displayed on a supermarket's parking lot, for everyone to see. At the pig mask covering the body's face, the removed testicles, the missing organs and ...the deep wound, extending from the throat to the abdomen. He decides to tell a half-truth, again.

He shakes his head. “No, this is not the Ripper's design. Despite the missing organs, this is...much too crude for his taste.”

***

As soon as Will is back in his car, he takes his phone and calls her. His eyes well up with tears when he hears her voice. “Hello, Will?”

“Abigail,” he says softly, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

There is a long silence, then Abigail answers slowly: “I don't know what you are talking about.”

Will sighs. “Please, don't lie to me. I know it was you. I was at the crime scene, with Jack Crawford. The student who was murdered...his upper body was slashed in the same way as you killed Lawrence Wells.”

He can hear Abigail sobbing softly. “Please don't be mad at me, Will. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not mad, Abigail,” Will says, crying as well now. “Are you alright? That's all that matters. The way you displayed him, the mask, the castration...did he..”, he can hardly say the words, ”Did this pig rape you?”

“No”, Abigail replies, and Will heaves a sigh of relief. “Not me, my roommate. I know you don't want us to kill anymore, but after what he did to her...I was so angry...”

“I understand,” Will answers, still crying. “I understand why you did it. I'm really not mad at you. But this has to stop. Hannibal was with you, wasn't he? I know he took the organs. Was it his idea to kill him?”

“No, Hannibal had nothing to do with it, it was my idea. I killed him alone, Hannibal just helped me afterwards, when I called him because I was injured. He also helped me display the body, so when he said he wanted to take a few organs I could hardly refuse...”

This is even worse than Will thought. “Hannibal wasn't with you? You did this all alone? This student could have killed you, Abigail! And when you were injured, you decided to call Hannibal, instead of me, after everything he put you through? Don't you trust me anymore? And what about the injury, are you hurt badly?”

“No, it wasn't that bad, I'm okay, Hannibal took care of it. I'm sorry, Will, of course I still trust you...I just didn't want you to worry...That's why I called him.”

Will takes a deep breath. “It's alright, I understand. I'm nearby, I'll come over, to your room, and we can talk about this.”

“No, I...don't have time today, I have to work on a project with some classmates. I'm really okay, you don't need to worry.”

“Okay...I'll call again. Please remember- you can tell me anything, whatever it is, I'll always be there for you. ”

“I know, Will. I'm sorry, I have to go. Good bye.”

She ends the call, and Will stares at his phone, desperate and hopeless, wondering what he is supposed to do now. He starts driving, planing to go home. He only realizes where he really went to when he is almost there.

***

When Hannibal opens the door to his waiting room, seeing Will again takes his breath away, although Hannibal knew that he would come. Will, sad, angry and desperate, but as beautiful as ever, even more so in his agitated state. 

“Hello Will,” Hannibal says, his voice cool and detached, not giving away his emotions.

Will glares at him angrily.

“Hello, Hannibal,” he answers.


	18. Chapter 18

Will would like to punch him in the face, to make the smug grin disappear, but he restrains himself.

Instead, he just asks: “Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you tell me she was injured?”

“Because I promised I wouldn't,” Hannibal answers.

Will scoffs. “Well, you knew that eventually, I'd find out anyway. And you made sure I'd know you were involved. That's why you took the organs, didn't you?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal replies coolly. “I just didn't want to pass up the opportunity. I hadn't had long pig in quite a while, so I was pleased to be able to taste this pig. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti."

“Spare me the details,” Will snaps. “Just tell me what you did to her. What did you do to her and say to her when she was your prisoner? She has never killed alone before, did you give her the idea? Did you try to alienate her from me and tell her she couldn't trust me? Is that why she called you instead of me?”

Oddly, Hannibal seems genuinely offended by these accusations. “I would never do that, Will. I would never try to alienate your daughter from you. I told you that I regarded both of you as my family. I still do. Abigail did not require my guidance, she simply followed her nature.”

Will feels as if his whole world collapses. He covers his face with his hands, sobbing. The last thing he wants is to cry in front of Hannibal, but he can't help himself. 

“So you think this is her nature?” he sobs. “Slaughtering someone while risking her own life and then exposing him in death? This is worse than the copycat killings. She always made a point of honoring our victims and their design. Despite the cruelness of their crimes, she was able to appreciate the beauty they created in death. Our crimes scenes...they were always works of art, carefully planned and designed and beautiful in their own way. But what she did to this student...There's nothing beautiful about this, it's ugly and crude, it's a pig's slaughter. I know he was a pig, but he wasn't a murderer, let alone a serial killer. He didn't deserve this.”

“Didn't he?” Hannibal asks, gazing at Will. “What if he had forced himself on Abigail instead of her roommate, Will? I suppose your view on this matter would be quite different then.”

Will just shakes his head. “I don't even want to think about that. I don't want to think about what could have happened. What did happen is worse enough already. I've always tried to protect her, but obviously, I've failed completely.” 

Will breaks down and cries, completely losing his composure. Hannibal takes a step forward, reaches out and touches Will's cheek. Will just stares at him for a moment, then Hannibal hugs him, and Will gives in, hugging him back. He knows he shouldn't do this, he should go, should leave Hannibal immediately instead of crying on his shoulder. But...this feels so good. It shouldn't, but it does.

He smells Hannibal's distinct, but pleasant scent and feels the pounding of his heart. His body reacts to Hannibal's, he stops crying and feels himself calming down. This just feels like...home.

“I've missed you,” he says without thinking. “I've missed you so much. My life changed, for the better, I should be glad- I am, actually, but...I've just missed you...”

“'I've missed you too, Will,” Hannibal says, his voice filled with emotions. “But I always knew you would come back.”

Will can see the tears in Hannibal's eyes and is overcome by a feeling of tenderness for this monster that suddenly seems so vulnerable and human. He cups Hannibal's face and kisses him. Hannibal freezes for a moment before kissing him back.

Slowly, they start undressing each other, and Will refuses to think about what he is just doing. If he did, he would stop, because he knows this is crazy, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want this to stop, and he doesn't want to think about what Hannibal is and what he did, he just wants this feeling to last. This feeling of comfort and tenderness, of being understood, accepted and- loved.

Will feels Hannibal above, beneath and inside his body, tastes his sweat and his sperm, hears him moan and whisper his name. It feels unreal, as if he is high on drugs or in a dream. Will can't tell how long this lasts, though it seems like an eternity. But eventually, they lay next to each other on the couch in Hannibal's office, both panting and exhausted. Reality is kicking in again, and Will realizes what he has done, both to himself and to Hannibal.

“I knew you would come back,” Hannibal says again.

“I shouldn't have,” Will replies, already regretting what just happened. “This was a mistake. I told you, my life has changed. There's no place for- someone like you in it anymore.”

“I've heard that you changed, Will. I understand you are an elementary school teacher now.” Hannibal's voice is detached, but Will notices a hint of ridicule in it.

“What's wrong with that?” he asks, irritated. 

“Nothing,” Hannibal answers. “Nothing at all, if that happens to be ones vocation. But yours is something else, Will, you said it yourself. I surely can imagine that you have a talent for your new profession, due to your gift, but nevertheless, it is not who you are meant to be.”

Will scoffs at that. “So I'm 'meant to be' a killer? I don't know who I'm meant to be, but I've decided that's certainly not who I want to be anymore. I want to use my gift to do good in this world. There are enough killers already.”

“There sure are,” Hannibal agrees. “But nobody is like you. You are unique, Will. It is a pity that you are not willing to see this. And what about Abigail? She is obviously neither willing nor able to stop killing. Are you going to deny your support to her, Will?”

“I will always support Abigail,” Will answers sharply. “But I can't support her killings anymore, I never should have. Frankly, I'm at a loss what to do about her. I just wish I could turn back time. I wish I could have become her guardian when she was much younger, a baby or a toddler. Perhaps her life could have been different then. She was just too far gone when I met her, too broken by her father and his crimes already. Maybe if I had another child...” He pauses.

Hannibal turns his head and gives him a look. “So you see Abigail as defective and want to replace her with a new child that is not damaged?”

Will shakes his head. “I don't see Abigail as defective, I see her as- troubled. And I would never replace her, she will always be my daughter. But...sometimes I just think that it would be nice to start all over again. To raise a child, teach them about the world, love and support them...I've thought a lot about it recently, since I became a teacher...Of course breeding wouldn't be a good idea in my case, but there are other ways...I know it's silly, but...” His voice trails off.

“Not at all,” Hannibal says softly. “It's a beautiful idea. We could have a child, Will. I never considered having a child. But after meeting Abigail, and after meeting you, I understand the appeal.”

Will just stares at Hannibal for a moment, then he starts laughing. He can't help it, it's just too absurd.

“Of course,” he says. “You are going to find a nice couple with a young child and murder the parents, and we will become the child's new dads.”

“There are other ways of becoming a parent besides murder, Will,” Hannibal remarks.

Will sighs. He gets up and starts to put his clothes on. “I know that, Hannibal. It's more about...your lifestyle. What you are, what you do...that's just not compatible with raising a child. You'd want to make them a killer, like Abigail, wouldn't you? I would never agree to that.”

“I would want them to explore and fulfill their true potential, Will,” Hannibal says gravely. “Whatever that might or might not entail. Not everybody has it in them to become like Abigail. Or like us.”

“I can't even believe this,” Will says while putting his pants on. “I can't believe than I'm discussing starting a family with a cannibalistic serial killer. This is just...insane. I told you, I'm trying to change. I don't even want to think about you anymore, let alone raise a child with you.”

“So you are leaving me again?” Hannibal asks. He is still lying on the couch, naked, watching Will. “This is starting to become a habit, Will. You, rejecting me.”

Will sighs. “I'm sorry,” he says, not looking at Hannibal. “I really am. As I said, it was a mistake. It won't happen again.” He got dressed and is heading for the door when he suddenly detects a swift movement behind his back.

Hannibal is behind him, holding him tight and pressing something against Will's throat. Something sharp, presumably a knife.

Will freezes immediately. He knows there's no use in fighting back. If he tries to, Hannibal won't hesitate to slash his throat. So Will forces himself to stay calm.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Go ahead, if you think this is going to make you feel any better.”

For a moment, Will can feel the blade against his throat and Hannibal's breath at the nape of his neck, then Hannibal lets him go.

Will breathes deeply and turns around. Hannibal is standing behind him, still naked, a scalpel in his hand. There are a few drops of blood on the scalpel's blade, and Hannibal licks them off slowly while looking at Will.

Will shudders. Quickly, before Hannibal can change his mind, he says: “Good bye, Hannibal,” giving Hannibal one last look. Hannibal is just staring at him, licking his lips. 

Will turns around and heads for the door, leaving Hannibal's office as fast as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I had the opportunity to use the famous quote...:) :)


	19. Chapter 19

Will tries not to think of Hannibal, but to no avail.

Whether he is at school or at home, among people or alone, whatever he is doing, he is always thinking of him. Of their last encounter, the intimacy, the closeness and their strange conversation about the absurd idea of having a child together.

But most of all, he is thinking about Hannibal's other, darker side which he saw for the very first time. The predator who attacked him, the cannibal who licked his blood off the scalpel, staring at Will. Will remembers this while he is lying in bed at night, unable to sleep. The memory makes him feel sick, but at the same time, and to his own disgust, he can feel his cock getting hard. He imagines fighting Hannibal, lunging at him and punching him in the face. He imagines killing again, but this time together with Hannibal, murdering killers and pigs like the student who raped Abigail's roommate. He is getting more and more aroused and starts to jerk off, moaning and panting and still thinking of Hannibal until he finally comes, with Hannibal's name on his lips.

What is wrong with me, he is thinking. I'm completely obsessed with this creep. I'm even turned on by his creepiness. This has to stop.

But how? How is he supposed to end this?

***

About two month after his encounter with Hannibal, Will is hurrying to his class in the morning, Winston in tow. The class is about to start, Will is late because he overslept again. He has trouble sleeping, his obsession with Hannibal is still keeping him up at night. 

“What a cute dog!”

Will is looking at the person who addressed him, slightly irritated because of being hold up. But when he sees the young woman who is smiling at him while patting Winston, he can't help but smile back.

“So you are the new teacher,” the woman says, “The one who brings his dogs to class. My son told me about you. He loves dogs.”

Will nods. “Yes, that would be me. I'm Will, Will Graham.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman replies. “I'm Molly Foster.”

***

Why didn't he kill him? 

After two months, he is still wondering about this.

It would have been so easy, one swift movement with the scalpel and it would have been over. He would have been free again.

Why didn't he do it?

He remembers Will's words: “Go ahead if you think this is going to make you feel any better.”

Would it have made him feel better? He imagines slashing Will's throat, imagines Will's blood dripping on him, imagines slaughtering, cooking and eating him. 

Will would taste delicious, he is sure of that, but what would remain if he ate him? Memories, mostly fond ones, rooms in his palace where he would visit him.

But would that be enough? Would that be better than this, the vague, irrational hope that someday he will- see? That someday Will will understand that it is impossible to deny one's true nature forever? 

Hannibal still hasn't decided on this. Perhaps one day, eventually, Hannibal will kill him.

Or perhaps Will will finally see that Hannibal only ever wanted what is best for him.

***

Hannibal is about to go home when somebody is knocking at his office's door.

Frowning, he walks to the door. Although unannounced visitors are something a psychiatrist has to put up with, he finds them extremely rude. He just hopes it isn't Franklyn, who has become more and more bothersome recently. 

But when Hannibal opens the door to his waiting room, his face lightens up immediately.

“Abigail. What a pleasant surprise.”

The young woman smiles at him.

“Hello, Hannibal. Nice to see you again. May I come in?”

“Of course.” He makes an inviting gesture, and Abigail enters the room and sits down on the chair reserved for patients. Hannibal takes a seat opposite her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Hannibal asks, and Abigail shrugs.

“I just...wanted to talk. To a sane human being.”

Hannibal can't help but smile. “And that would be me?”

“I guess so...well, at least compared to the other shrink Will makes me see.”

“Will wants you to see a psychiatrist?”

Abigail makes a face. “Yes, and the crazy thing is- I'm not even allowed to tell her anything. Well, not really. I'm supposed to talk about my dad, about what he did and how that made me feel. I'm not supposed to tell her that I helped my dad, and of course I'm not allowed to talk about the copycat murders or about the pig I butchered. So even if I thought I needed therapy, how's this therapy supposed to help me?”

“There is no need for these precautions,” Hannibal remarks. “You could confess to a murder in therapy, and your therapist wouldn't be allowed to say a word, due to doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm surprised that Will is not aware of that.”

“He is,” Abigail answers. “He's just super careful and protective of me. He's afraid the psychiatrist is going to talk to the police anyway, even if she's actually not allowed to.”

“Yes, that sounds like Will,” Hannibal says, the thought of Will's protectiveness and love for Abigail making him smile. “How is he?”

Abigail sighs. “Not that great, to be honest. I think he misses the killings. And you, probably.” She gives Hannibal a look. “Did something happen between you after I killed the student?”

“Why are you asking, Abigail?” Hannibal questions, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Abigail shrugs. “Just a hunch. I saw him a few days later, and he...well, he was weird. Even weirder than usual I mean. I figured it must have something to do with you.” She gazes at Hannibal intently. “He had a band aid on his neck. Did you give him a hickey?”

Despite himself, Hannibal chuckles. “This is really none of your concern, Abigail.”

“Yes, I know. I just wish...I just wish we could be together and maybe...kill together, like Will wanted to. Before he suddenly decided to become a saint.” She makes a face again.

“You shouldn't ridicule your foster father, Abigail,” Hannibal scolds her. “As much as we may hope that he will finally resume his former ways, we must respect Will's decisions.”

Abigail nods. “You are right. I really wish I could talk to my psychiatrist like I can talk to you, Hannibal. Would you mind if I came over once in a while?”

Hannibal shakes his head and smiles. “No, Abigail, on the contrary. I would be delighted.”

***

Hannibal is still smiling after Abigail left. He realizes how much he missed Will's foster daughter. And knowing that Will was obviously in an agitated state after their last encounter certainly is...

Hannibal's thoughts are disrupted abruptly by the ringing of his phone.

Frowning, he answers the call. “Hello, Dr Lecter speaking.”

“Hello, Dr Lecter,” says the caller, slowly and slightly indistinctly. “I'd like to make an appointment.”

“Of course. Who am I speaking to, please?”

“My name is Francis, Francis Dolarhyde.”


	20. Chapter 20

“Nine times,” Franklyn says, counting on his fingers. “I can count on two hands the number of times I've been dumped by a psychiatrist.”

“I'm sorry, Franklyn,” Hannibal replies. I think it's best if you see another doctor who might be more helpful to you.”

“You are giving me a referral?”

“Yes. I would like to recommend my colleague, Dr Bedelia Du Maurier who is...”

“A woman?” Franklyn asks, frowning. “Is she...attractive? Honestly, I don't think that's such a good idea. I had a female psychiatrist once, and...well, I suppose I got a bit obsessed and...it became quite difficult, especially when she got the restraining order...” He clears his throat, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

Hannibal suppresses a smirk. This is going to be interesting, he is thinking, glad that he refrained from snapping Franklyn's neck. Apart from Hannibal's own sessions with her, Bedelia has retired. However, Hannibal is sure that reminding her of their mutual patient's death will suffice to convince her to take Franklyn as a patient. Hannibal is very curious what will happen and how the doctor-patient relationship between cool, detached Bedelia and extremely neurotic Franklyn is going to develop.

Hopefully, her new patient will distract Bedelia from her suspicions against Hannibal. She has made strange allusions recently, claiming that he was not honest with her, but hiding his true nature behind a “person suit” or a “human veil”. Hannibal is sure she has no idea that he is the Chesapeake Ripper, but he wants to keep it that way, as he likes Bedelia and would not enjoy having to kill her.

Besides, having Franklyn as a patient serves Bedelia right for being quite rude, Hannibal muses. When Hannibal talks to her about Will during their sessions, she often seems slightly annoyed by Hannibal's constant mentions of him and even stated once that Hannibal was obsessed with Will. Of course there were many things Hannibal couldn't tell her about Will. He had just referred to Will as a former partner who left him, refusing to give away his name or any details about their relationship, which probably fueled Bedelia's suspicions about Hannibal even more.

“I can tell you that Dr Du Maurier is a very experienced psychiatrist who has been pursuing this profession longer than I have myself,” Hannibal says, smiling at Franklyn reassuringly. “She is fully equipped to deal with rather difficult cases like yours- if you don't mind my saying so, Franklyn- and is capable of taking care of herself, as she has already proven in the past.”

***

After Franklyn has finally gone, reluctantly accepting Hannibal's referral, Hannibal is waiting for his new patient, Francis Dolarhyde. He is curious about him, like about every new patient that comes to his office. Unfortunately, most patients don't justify this curiosity, but turn out to be rather dull. Hannibal hopes that Dolarhyde will be the exception.

“Good evening, Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal notices that Dolarhyde has a scar on his upper lip, due to a cleft lip, which is why his speech is slightly indistinct. Dolarhyde seems to be very self-conscious about this, trying hard to conceal his speech impediment. Furthermore, Hannibal can tell that Dolarhyde believes himself to be disfigured because of the scar, although he is actually quite good looking, a tall, well-built man in his forties.

“Good evening, Mr Dolarhyde,” Hannibal says politely.

“You can call me Francis,” Hannibal's new patient answers. “Though my name doesn't really matter anyway because I won't be Francis Dolarhyde for very much longer. I'm becoming...something else,” he whispers, fixing his gaze on Hannibal.

“What are you becoming, Francis?” Hannibal asks him curiously and leans forward in his chair. Finally, a patient has managed to arouse his interest.

“The Great...Red...Dragon,” Francis replies gravely, emphasizing every word.

***

Will is reading an article about Chilton's trial on his phone, suddenly feeling guilty. When he helped Hannibal frame Chilton for murder, all Will really cared about was getting Abigail back. And he has to admit that it was also quite convenient to find a patsy and thus be freed of the constant threat of Jack Crawford becoming suspicious of him. Will tried to tell himself that Chilton had it coming, but he knew that wasn't true. You don't deserve to face a life sentence just for being a prick and a shitty, manipulative psychiatrist. Will wonders if there is anything he can do to help Chilton without arousing suspicion. Perhaps Hannibal could...

Will sighs. Why does it always come to this? Why does he always end up thinking about Hannibal? Why should Hannibal even consider helping Chilton who hurt his ego by “taking away his identity” as the Chesapeake Ripper from him?

His phone rings, interrupting his thoughts. It's Molly.

“Hello, hotshot,” she says cheerfully.

“Hello, Molly. How are you?”

“Good, of course, now that I'm hearing your voice. Want me to come over tonight? I could call the babysitter now and be at your place at 8.”

Will suppresses a sigh. He is feeling tired, again, and has been looking forward to a quiet evening alone. But she sounds so happy that he doesn't want to disappoint her. Molly and Will have been dating for three months now, and he really likes her. Will hadn't been with a woman for quite a while when he met her, but he was drawn to her unpretentious and cheerful attitude. She loves dogs as much as Will does, and he bonded with her son Walter immediately. When they went to the zoo last weekend, it felt almost like a family trip.

Almost, if it weren't for...Hannibal. Will still can't forget him, he even thinks of him sometimes when he has sex with Molly, feeling ashamed of himself. Molly has no idea who I really am, Will is thinking. If she knew she would run away screaming and never come back. If she knew that her “sweet man”, as she often calls Will, is a killer who was with another killer that also happened to be a cannibal...Molly wouldn't even believe him if he told her.

Will is wondering how Hannibal is doing. He suspects that Abigail is in contact with him, though she won't admit it. Will hopes that she didn't tell him about Molly because he is sure the news that Will has a new partner won't sit well with Hannibal. The last thing Will wants is to endanger Molly and her son.

“Of course,” Will finally answers, trying to sound as happy as Molly does, “Come over, I'm looking forward to seeing you.”

Molly chuckles. “Me too, you and your dogs, of course. See you, sweet man.”

Will says goodbye to Molly and starts to look for further articles on the copycat trial when suddenly something else draws his attention.

A headline, saying “TOOTH FAIRY MASSACRES PERFECT FAMILIES”. Will reads the article, getting more and more upset. Perfect, happy families, killed at home...Parents murdered, children shot in their beds, mothers abused in horrific ways... The article makes Will think of his students, of Molly and Walter, of Abigail...the mere idea that someone would do this to them...he clenches his fists, and something stirs inside him, something dark which he tried so hard to destroy.


	21. Chapter 21

“It seems you are doing better, Abigail.” Hannibal smiles at the young woman sitting opposite him on the patient's chair in his office.

She shrugs. “Maybe. I still miss the killings, and the psychiatrist still annoys me, but...well, I think you get used to everything.”

Hannibal observes Abigail, wondering if there is a specific reason for her good temper. She has been visiting him regularly for several months now and was often in an irritated or even depressed state, complaining about Will and the therapist he makes her see. Recently, though, she seems more content and balanced. Hannibal wonders, smiling to himself, if she may have fallen in love. If this should be the case, Hannibal is confident that Abigail will tell him eventually. 

He has become very fond of her and always enjoys her visits. Abigail reminds him both of his own deceased sister and of Will in many ways, however, she has still a very unique personality of her own. They always talk about Will and his efforts to change his life, and Abigail seems to be convinced that Will is deceiving himself and misses the copycat killings as much as she does.

This time, though, Abigail doesn't mention Will at all, and Hannibal is starting to wonder if there is a reason for this, if she is hiding something.

“How is your foster father, Abigail? “ he asks. “You haven't spoken about him today.”

Abigail averts her eyes, obviously feeling uncomfortable. “He's...fine. I guess.”

“Is there something you are not telling me, Abigail?” Hannibal gives her a thorough look, and when Abigail still won't look him in the eye, he feels himself getting anxious.

“What is it, Abigail? Is something wrong with Will?”

Abigail doesn't answer and looks down at her hands, blushing slightly.

“What is it? Please tell me,” Hannibal inquires, trying to sound unaffected.

Finally, Abigail sighs softly and says: “It's...Will is seeing someone. A woman, Molly. They've been together for four months now. I didn't want to tell you because I thought they'd split up eventually, but...It seems to be more serious than I thought. She even moved in with him a few days ago, together with her son. She's nice, and I think...I think he really likes her, the three of them are like a family.” She pauses, glancing at Hannibal. “I'm sorry.”

Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment. “You have nothing to feel sorry about, Abigail,” he then answers in a cool, flat voice. “Thank you for telling me. I'm glad to hear that Will is happy.”

“Really?” Abigail looks at him doubtfully. “I must admit I'm a bit surprised that you take it so lightly, Hannibal.”

“Why shouldn't I? We haven't seen each other in quite a while, it's not a surprise that he found someone else.” Hannibal glances at his watch. “It was nice talking to you, Abigail, as usual, but I have an appointment with a patient in a few minutes, so unfortunately, I have to say good bye for now. I hope to see you again soon.”

***

After Abigail left, Hannibal finally allows himself to let go. He clutches his chair's armrests and breathes deeply, trying to stay calm. Will has a family. After rejecting him and, in a way, Abigail as well, he has found himself a new, perfect family, a woman, a son. People who don't even know him, don't appreciate him for what he is and could certainly never...

There is a soft knock at his door. “Dr Lecter?” a slightly indistinct voice says.

Hannibal startles, frowning at his patient's rudeness. But then something crosses his mind, a brilliant, ingenious idea, and he suddenly smiles. He quickly stands up and opens the door to his waiting room.

“Good evening, Francis.”

“Hello, Dr Lecter.”

It didn't take Hannibal long to find out that his new patient, who has been seeing him for a few months now, is the infamous serial killer named 'tooth fairy' by the tabloid media. Hannibal hasn't told him yet that he knows because he was waiting for the right moment. Finally, this moment has come.

Hannibal realized that Dolarhyde was the tooth fairy killer when he had an appointment with him the day after the Leeds family was murdered. Dolarhyde was in an unusually agitated state, euphoric and exited. He was talking constantly about himself becoming The Great Red Dragon, a powerful, invincible being, and about the necessity of 'changing' others to fuel his becoming. Hannibal remembered that Dolarhyde had also been at his office after the Jacobis' murder and had been in a similar state. It wasn't hard to guess what Dolarhyde really meant by 'changing' and who he had just 'changed.' 

Furthermore, the fact that the tooth fairy smashed all the mirrors in the Leedses' and the Jacobis' house corresponds with Dolarhyde's self-consciousness regarding his scar. And he often told Hannibal about his violent fantasies, things he imagined doing to his grandmother who abused him. However, after reading about the tooth fairy murders and the atrocities that were done to the mothers, Hannibal realized that these things were not merely fantasies, but crimes Dolarhyde committed as the tooth fairy killer. 

Hannibal suspects that Dolarhyde has killed before because he told Hannibal that his becoming already began several years ago. According to Dolarhyde, though, he hadn't been aware yet at that point that his new self was The Great Red Dragon.

Hannibal appreciates the William Blake reference, although Dolarhyde's design lacks the painting's artistry, but is rather vulgar for Hannibal's taste. In contrast to Hannibal, who regards himself as an artist, turning death into beauty and cruelty into art, Dolarhyde seems to focus on the act of killing itself rather than on its presentation.

Recently, Dolarhyde started to talk less about his crimes and more about his new girlfriend, which surprised Hannibal and also annoyed him, as he found this topic far less interesting.

“The Dragon spoke to me,” Dolarhyde is telling Hannibal now, staring at him wide-eyed. 

“What did it say?” Hannibal asks curiously. This is interesting, he is thinking. Dolarhyde has never mentioned any acoustic hallucinations before.

“It called my name. It wants Reba.”

Now he's considering killing his girlfriend? Hannibal realizes immediately that he can use this to his advantage. Softly, he says:

“I know who you are, Francis. I know that you changed the Leedses and the Jacobis to fuel your becoming.”

Dolarhyde's face darkens, and he is about to get up, obviously planning to attack Hannibal. Hannibal considers his chances to win in a fight against the tall, broad-shouldered man and adds quickly: 

“Don't worry, I'm not going to report you. I'm not even allowed to, due to doctor-patient confidentiality. And I have no intention to either. As your psychiatrist, it is my duty to help you, and I want to help you become your true self.”

Dolarhyde stares at him, disbelievingly, but with a glint of hope. “Do you really want to help me, Dr Lecter? Do you really see what I'm becoming?”

Hannibal nods, smiling. “Yes. I see you. I know what you are. If it weren't for the power of your becoming, if it weren't for the Dragon, you could've never had Reba.”

“I put my hand on her beating heart. Heard the sound of her living voice. A living woman. How bizarre. I don't want to give her to the Dragon,” Dolarhyde whispers.

Hannibal looks him in the eye. “You are stronger than the Dragon, Francis. You could choose to have her alive. You don't have to worry about feeling love for her. You can always toss the Dragon someone else. I know a family that you could change. Do you know Will Graham, who consulted for the police concerning the Minnesota Shrike and the copycat case?”

Dolarhyde thinks about this for a moment, then he nods. “Yes, I read about him. The special investigator who was institutionalized after killing the Shrike. He interests me. Odd-looking for an investigator. Not very handsome, but purposeful.”

What the- what did he just say about Will? For a moment, Hannibal stares at Dolarhyde indignantly, rendered speechless by the rudeness of his remark. He forces himself to stay calm and says, slowly and emphatically: 

“He has a family. A happy one, like the ones you enjoy changing, Francis. It's full moon tomorrow night, I know that's your preferred time to change families. Would you like to change Will Graham's family? I could give you his home address.”

He leans forward in his chair, looking at his patient intensely. “Save yourself, kill them all.”


	22. Chapter 22

The next evening, Hannibal finds himself in a state of unrest and agitation.

He has no doubt that Dolarhyde is going to 'change' Will's family tonight. Hannibal wonders what is going to happen. He is sure that being confronted with a murderer who is attacking his family is going to make Will a killer again. If he is only half as protective of his new family as he is of Abigail, he will do anything to save them.

The question is, however, if he is going to succeed. Hannibal harbors serious doubts about that. Knowing Will intimately, Hannibal is aware that he is physically stronger than he appears at first glance. Hannibal still remembers vividly- though he wishes he could forget- Will thrusting into him while holding him so tight that it felt as if he was going to crush Hannibal's ribs.

But still Hannibal comes to the conclusion that Will probably won't stand a chance against Dolarhyde. Even if they were equally strong, which is doubtful, the fact that he is considerably taller than Will gives Dolarhyde an enormous advantage.

At least Abigail is safe, Hannibal is thinking. She told him that she wasn't staying with Will at the moment, but was going back to college. But what about Will? After everything he did to him and continues doing to him, Hannibal knows he should be glad that Dolarhyde is finally going to kill Will. He wonders if he will shoot Will or slash his throat. Maybe he will torture him, though he's probably going to safe that for Will's girlfriend, but who knows? Hannibal frowns, contemplating the multiple ways that Will might be killed by Dolarhyde's hands and realizes that he is not prepared to accept this. If Will is going to die, it has to be Hannibal who kills him. Not with a knife or a gun, but with his own hands. Intimately.

Hannibal quickly takes his coat and leaves the house, hoping that it's not too late.

***

The first thing Hannibal notices when he is getting out of his car is the screaming. A female voice, a voice that he recognizes immediately. How can that be? She is not supposed to be here. 

Hannibal forces himself to stay calm. Carefully and silently, he approaches Will's house and sees Dolarhyde, Abigail and Will fighting. Nobody seems to have noticed him so far. Getting nearer, Hannibal observes that Dolarhyde is holding Abigail in a tight grip. She is screaming, trying to free herself, but to no avail. Will is attacking Dolarhyde, reaching for a knife that he hid in his pocket and stabbing Dolarhyde in his legs and his back. The tall man turns around, releasing Abigail, and lunges at Will. Dolarhydes takes the knife away from him quickly and stabs it into Will's cheek. 

Hannibal flinches at the sight. With one swift movement, he is behind Dolarhyde and jumps on his back. Taken by surprise, Dolarhyde lets go of Will who pulls the knife free of his face and is about to stab it into Dolarhyde's abdomen. Quickly, Abigail reaches out.

“Let me,” she says, taking the knife and plunging it into Dolarhyde at his sternum. She pulls it down, gutting Dolarhyde while Hannibal bites out his throat.

Dolarhyde drops to his knees, and Hannibal, who fell from Dolarhyde's back and is lying on the ground, watches the killer fall on his back, blood spurting from his throat and upper body.

Dolarhyde turns his head and stares at Hannibal. “Dr Lecter,” he whispers. “I've changed. You've changed me. I'm finally becoming the Dragon.”

Hannibal nods. “Yes, I know,” he says softly, “I see you. You are becoming your higher self.”

He holds Dolarhyde's gaze until the other man's eyes finally glaze over.

***

Hannibal gets up. Slowly, he approaches Will who is embracing Abigail, holding her tight and stroking her back. For the first time, Hannibal realizes that there is no sign of Will's girlfriend or her son. He wonders if the Dragon succeeded in changing them.

“What's happened? Where is your family, Will?” he asks.

Will glances at Hannibal and his foster daughter and smiles.

“Here, right beside me,” he says.

Hannibal frowns. “I'm not sure that I understand what you mean,” he replies. 

Abigail frees herself from Will's embrace and turns around, looking at Hannibal.

“I'm so sorry,” she says. “I didn't mean to lie to you, but it was the only way to get him here. Will is going to explain it to you. I'll take a shower, I guess you would like to have some privacy,” she adds, winking at them. “I'm so glad you came here, Hannibal. I knew you would help us.” After saying this, she walks to the front door, turning around one last time and smiling at them before entering Will's house.

Hannibal stares after her, utterly confused.

“I have no idea what is going on here, Will.”

Will chuckles. “I can't blame you. Well, as Abigail already said, she lied to you. She didn't mean to, but there was no other way. Molly and I split up weeks ago, Hannibal. She never moved in with me.”

Hannibal just gazes at him, unable to process what Will just said.

“Did you know? Did you know that Dolarhyde was the tooth fairy?” he finally asks.

Will nods. “Yes. You know he's not the first serial killer we found. It wasn't that difficult. He stalked the Leeds and the Jacobis on social media. Of course Dolarhyde tried to cover his tracks, but it was quite easy to find him anyway. We found out more about him, about his traumatic childhood, about his cleft lip scar that made him feel disfigured, about his blind girlfriend- well, and I just knew. Sometimes I just know that somebody's a killer, because I can feel what they feel. But we still didn't have any actual prove. Until one day, to her great surprise, Abigail met our killer in your waiting room.”

“So Abigail lied to me to make him come here, so that you could kill him. You tricked me, both of you. Again.”

Hannibal gives Will a reproachful look, and Will sighs. 

“Please don't blame Abigail. She really felt bad about it. But it was the only way.” He looks at the other man intently.

“I know you, Hannibal. I knew you'd find out about Dolarhyde eventually, and I knew you'd freak out if you believed that I found a new family. I couldn't imagine you killing an eleven-year-old with your own hands, but I figured you wouldn't mind killing him by proxy. I guess I was right.”

Still fixating Hannibal, he asks: “Did you have second thoughts about it? About sending a killer after an innocent woman and her son? Is that why you came here?”

Hannibal hesitates. It would be so easy, he is thinking. It would be so easy just to agree and to make Will believe that he feels compassion for anybody but Will and Abigail. That he isn't the monster Will obviously believes him to be.

“No,” Hannibal finally answers. “I don't care about this woman's and this boy's life. They are not my family. I came here for you. I often thought about killing you- daily, to be precise- , but I wasn't prepared to let somebody else kill you.”

Will just nods. “Thank you for being honest with me. But if you want us to be together, this won't work. Sending a killer after Molly and Walter, murdering a young girl to get back at me- if you want us to be together, you can't go on like that. I couldn't live with it, it would destroy me.”

Hannibal can hardly believe his ears. “If I want us to be together? Is that what you want, Will? Since when?”

Will chuckles. “Since I first met you, probably. But it took me a while to admit it, even to myself.”

Hannibal is getting more and more confused, wondering what Will is up to and if this still is a trick.

“What became of your plans to change your life and stop killing?”

Will sighs, then he says softly: “It was like a fairy tale. Or maybe a Hollywood movie. A man who only knows violence and revels in doing bad things to bad people has a change of heart. He realizes that there are other ways beyond violence to do good in this world and becomes a teacher, helping disabled and disadvantaged kids. Then he meets a lovely woman who has a son, and they become a family and live happily ever after. A Hollywood film with a happy ending. But- I realized that it wasn't my happy ending. It just wasn't me.”

Will pauses, groping for words. “Being a teacher was a rewarding experience I'll always be grateful for,” he finally continues. “And I had a wonderful time with Molly and her son. But in the end, this life wasn't sustainable. When we became the copycat, Abigail and I - it changed us, we became someone else. And you can't just walk away from that and live a normal life again. There's no going back. But maybe that's just fine.”

Hannibal, who has listened to Will's words intently, asks him: “So I suppose now that you decided to become a killer again and playing house with your girlfriend doesn't seem appropriate anymore, you want to be with me again? For how long exactly? How long will it take you this time to realize that I am evil incarnate and you don't want to associate with me? Frankly, I'm not sure if I'm going to survive it one more time, but I can guarantee you that you won't, Will.”

Will chuckles softly. “Well, if that were to happen, I'd say I had it coming.”

Suddenly, Will takes a step towards Hannibal and flings his arms around him, holding Hannibal tight.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I was a prick. I'm not going to leave you, I promise. I'm not afraid anymore that you are going to harm Abigail. I know I hurt you, and you didn't take it out on her. You were like a father to her, she told me. A better one than I was. And what we just did... I want to do this again, killing with you and Abigail. It was beautiful. Let's leave, let's find a new place to start all over again. Together.”

Hannibal feels himself getting overwhelmed by Will's sweet, intoxicating scent and by the sensation of Will's body pressed against his. He realizes how much he has missed this. Tenderly, he holds Will in his arms, nuzzling Will's head with his own.

“First, we have to get rid of the body. And the wound on your cheek needs stitching,” he says softly. “I have to take care of that before we can leave, Will.”


	23. Epilogue

“Hannibal's lawyer must be a magician,” Abigail says, looking over Will's shoulder at the tablet in Will's hand. They are at home, sitting at the kitchen table.

Will scoffs. “Well, I suppose it has less to do with magic and much more with giving a lot of money to a few people,” he replies. “How convenient that he suddenly found several witnesses who could testify on Chilton's behalf, claiming that they were with him when two of the copycat murders were committed.”

Abigail shrugs. “Actually, I don't really care how he did it, I'm just glad Chilton was acquitted. I felt pretty bad about it, to be honest.”

Will nods. “Yeah, me too.”

Chilton is probably going to write a book about this, he is thinking. Maybe it's finally going to be the great bestseller he's always been hoping for.

Will continues to browse the news until he finds what he was looking for.

“Look,” he says, pointing at the tablet. “They're writing about us again.”

They smile at each other and start to read the latest article about 'l'artista'.* Obviously, the media has no idea yet that it's not just one artist, but in fact three.

“I think they kind of like us,” Abigail remarks, and Will agrees.

“Of course they do. We are killing the bad guys and make the crime scenes look like famous paintings. Of course they all love it, even the ones who won't admit it. There are even people betting on our next kill, what kind of evildoer we will murder and which painting we are going to imitate.”

Abigail giggles. “I feel a bit like a celebrity. Except that nobody knows who we are.”

“Well, thank god they don't, Abigail,” Will says, frowning slightly.

Abigail is about to answer when they hear noises in the hall. It's probably Hannibal, who is finally coming home after running some errands.

The kitchen door opens, and Will wants to ask Hannibal what took him so long, but when he sees him, the words stick in Will's throat.

Will stares at his partner or, to be more precise, at the boy holding Hannibal's hand.

He is about three years old, with dark curls and big brown eyes, and he wears a sling on his left arm and has a few bruises on his face.

“Hannibal,” Will says when he finally regains his composure. “What the- who is this?”

Hannibal smiles. “This is Adriano,” he answers. “Though I think it would be advisable to rename him. As he is going to have a new family, it seems appropriate for him to also have a new name.”

Will stands up, glaring at Hannibal. “What are you talking about? What did you do, Hannibal? What did you do to his parents?”

“Nothing, Will,” Hannibal replies coolly. “Unfortunately, they died in a car accident last night. It was on the local news, you can check it. Adriano was the only survivor, and he has no further relatives.”

Will remembers vaguely reading an article about a young couple killed in a car crash. He narrows his eyes. “You don't happen to be responsible for their accident, Hannibal?”

Hannibal returns his gaze indifferently. “Would you mind telling me how I could have done that, Will? I was with you the whole night. Frankly, I'm a bit offended that you don't remember.” He smirks.

“Well, I do remember,” Abigail barges in, making a face. “The whole night indeed. You were so loud again that I...”

“Abigail, stop,” Will says warningly. “That's not funny,” he continues, addressing Hannibal, who is still smirking. “So you abducted him from the hospital? What were you thinking, Hannibal? What the fuck are we supposed to...”

Will is becoming more and more upset, his voice getting louder, and the little boy looks up at him anxiously and quickly hides behind Hannibal's legs.

Will pauses, looking down at the boy. He sighs. “Great. Now I'm the bad guy?”

He bends down to look at Adriano. “Non aver paura,”* he says softly. “È tutto ok.”*

But the boy won't look at him, still hiding behind Hannibal.

“Ti piacciono i cani?”*

Adriano still doesn't answer, but peeps out from behind Hannibal's legs.

Will smiles and whistles.

Winston pads into the kitchen, wagging his tail. After coming to Will, who pats his head, Winston goes over to the boy, sniffing him curiously. 

The boy giggles softly, patting Winston's head like Will did before.

“Il suo nome è Winston,”* Will explains.

“Win-ton,” Adriano says, finally smiling at Will shyly.

Will can't help but smile back at him. Although the boy is much younger, something about his smile reminds him of Wally. And of Abigail, when she started to trust him.

“He's so cute,” Abigail exclaims, smiling at the boy as well. “And he loves dogs just as much as you do, Will. He fits perfectly with us.”

Will sighs, looking at the boy again. Poor little guy, ending up with a crazy murder family, he is thinking. A cannibal, a psychopath and an empath, and all of them killers. But we will love you to bits, all of us, and nobody could protect you like we can. If anybody should ever try to hurt you, we will kill them. 

He walks over to Hannibal and hugs him. “Thank you,” he says softly, leaning his head against Hannibal's shoulder. “This is completely insane, but...thank you.”

“You are welcome, Will,” Hannibal replies, holding him. After a few minutes, Hannibal slowly frees himself from Will's embrace and looks at their new family member who eyes Hannibal and Will curiously.

“Hai fame?”* he asks and Adriano nods.

“Anch'io,”* Hannibal says, smiling.

“What about you?” he asks, glancing at Abigail and Will.

“How about a little protein scramble to start the day?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translations:
> 
> l'artista – the artist
> 
> Non aver paura – Don't be afraid
> 
> È tutto ok – Everything's fine
> 
> Ti piacciono i cani? - Do you like dogs?
> 
> Il suo nome è Winston – His name is Winston
> 
> Hai fame? - Are you hungry?
> 
> Anch'io – Me too
> 
> I hope the translations are okay, I don't speak Italian.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos.


End file.
